The Consequences of Undercover
by VanillaAshes
Summary: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff's undercover mission challenges them both in different ways; not all missions have the same result, and this one changed both of their lives. Pre-Avengers.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **Hey guys! New story, yay! I started this story quite a while ago, but now know that it's time to start posting!**

 **This is set during Nats and Clint's time at SHIELD, and before the Avengers!**

 **Fits with the MCU right now :)**

* * *

Natasha was seated in the mission briefing room, staring down Coulson, who was currently refusing to tell her about the mission until her partner arrived. She was surprised when she discovered she and Clint were set to go on a mission together- lately, they've been working alone, her infiltrating Stark Industries and him doing his own missions. If they were being brought together again, it meant it was something serious- why else would they use two of their best spies on the same mission?

Clint finally sauntered in, a whole thirty-seven seconds late, with the gall to look unapologetic about his tardiness. He slipped into a chair opposite Natasha, giving her a quick dip of the head in greeting before turning his seat to face Coulson at the head of the table. "What've we got this time?" He asked casually, as if he wasn't on full alert for the same reasons as Natasha. She could tell by the look in his eyes- calculating, deducing- that he'd drawn the same conclusions about why they must be assigned to the same mission and was internally scrambling to put the pieces together and figure it out on his own.

"Here are your wedding rings. You will be going undercover as a married couple; it's a long undercover mission." Coulson informed them, handing over mission folders. "You are to discreetly find the source of an organisation that is kidnapping children and adopting them out for a profit."

Natasha's eyes narrowed; anything to do with children always riled her up. She opened the file, seeing that the paperwork appeared legit. "How do they get the children to cooperate? Are they in on the ruse?"

Clint chipped in as well. "And how did you find out about this organisation? How do you know it's false?" Clint wasn't stupid; he wasn't asking because he couldn't figure it out. He was asking to ensure that they didn't go into the wrong situation, guns blazing. He was asking for proof.

Coulson turned to the projection screen behind him and flicked to a picture of a smiling little boy with curly blond hair and big brown eyes. "This is Brian. He was kidnapped from a park at age four. He was gone without a trace, and the case quickly went cold. A year later, a boy with identical facial features was found in the custody of a Mr. and Mrs. Rothman, two states away." He pulled up another picture of a little boy, similar in appearance but with black hair. "This is Ryan, who the Rothmans legally adopted about four months after Brian went missing. Ryan's birth certificate shows he was born somewhere else, and that his parents died. However, our facial recognition software positively identified these two boys as being one in the same. He is still with the Rothmans, as S.H.I.E.L.D. decided it was best for him to stay with his adoptive family while we investigate further- he's not in any danger, so for now we're just keeping an eye on both families." Coulson gestured to further information in the file. "Brian's situation brought our attentions to similar cases that have been popping up around that area in Ohio, leading us to believe that the culprits are serial kidnappers and are still at work. The Rothman family is your way in, and the primary target. They don't know that their adoption was ever investigated, and we want to keep it that way." Coulson paused.

"You want us to babysit a kid and his fake parents?" Natasha asked, not liking the idea one bit. Couldn't she be given a more proactive mission? One that did not involve having to interact with families?

Clint interrupted before Coulson could reply. "I don't think so, Nat- someone else is already doing that; otherwise how would they know the current status of the families?" He gave Coulson an 'Am I right?' look.

"Then why don't they knock on the door and ask the parents where they got the kid?" Natasha questioned.

Coulson sighed. "It's highly unlikely they would know- all signs point to them being completely unaware that their son was obtained through illegal action. And if we were to approach them on it and tell them, it would add unnecessary drama and distraction to our efforts- thus we're waiting until after the kidnappers are stopped to retrieve Brian." He explained.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "So you're letting the kid stay with his illegal parents until the bad guy is stopped- that's okay and all, but what about his real parents? How do we explain our surveillance of their family without bringing up their missing son? They're bound to notice if this goes on too long."

"And what are we supposed to do undercover?"

Coulson shook his head. "You won't be interacting with the biological family. Your main priority is to befriend the adopted family and get some more information out of them that way- information that only they would know, but probably don't think is too important. If a government agency comes in and demands answers, they'll close up and endanger our entire operation."

Natasha nodded. She couldn't argue with that; why they needed her and Clint to go in, she didn't know, but she wasn't about to argue. "When do we leave?"

"You have two hours to get ready. Your fake documentation and identities will be provided once you've moved into your house." Coulson replied. "It's four houses down from the Rothmans."

Clint snorted. "What are the chances that a house near our targets just happened to be on the market?"

Coulson gave a small smirk. "A house doesn't have to be on the market to be sold. You just need to offer its occupants the right amount."

Clint raised an eyebrow but didn't reply. Natasha stood up. "Is that all? I apparently need to switch my wardrobe to 'normal' clothes."

"That's not all," Coulson inserted, summoning her back to the table. "There's one last thing you need to know about this mission." He said rather mysteriously.

"And what might that be?" Natasha questioned, waiting patiently on the outside and impatiently on the inside.

He shuffled his paperwork to organise it, casually saying as he did so, "Your undercover personas will be interested in adopting, possibly to the point of beginning on the process."

Clint blinked before apparently working out exactly what that meant. "Hang on- you want us to illegally adopt a child?" He demanded.

"It's the only way to catch these people." Coulson assured.

"'It's the only way'- I've heard that garbage before." Natasha muttered. "Come, Clint- let's go get ourselves a child."

* * *

Clint grabbed another shirt from his dresser drawer and neatly packed it in his suitcase, followed by several more shirts and a few pairs of pants. Even though they would both be provided with undercover clothes, he still liked to bring some of his own for the familiarity they offered.

In the hidden pocket, he placed his identification, a gun and his folded-up bow; the arrows would be in the secret compartment of the car's trunk. Then he went to his closet and considered his shoes- being a spy meant that he had more pairs of shoes than the biggest spendthrift could imagine. But which ones to bring? Combat boots? Cleats? Sandals? What did normal adult men wear on a regular basis? Probably not the heavy combat boots, he decided sadly, passing over his favorite pair of shoes. Gym shoes? Yeah, those looked normal enough. He grabbed the shoes and threw them into the suitcase, then added a pair of dress shoes and a pair of sandals as an afterthought.

Lastly he pulled out his phone and dialed his wife. She picked up after the fifth ring, sounding sleepy.

"Clint?" She mumbled. He smiled sadly, wishing he were there with her to get in some early-morning cuddling with his wife.

"Hey, Laura. Did I wake you?"

"Mm… yeah. Lila was throwing up at two in the morning, so I had to spend a few hours taking care of her." Laura explained. Clint frowned.

"She alright?"

"Yeah, it's just a bug. She slept soundly after four o'clock, and she managed to keep the medicine down this morning." There was a shifting sound as she apparently rolled over to get more comfortable.

"I'm glad. Sorry I wasn't there to help, Honey."

"'S fine." She slurred sleepily.

"Hey, Laura? I was assigned a new mission." That seemed to wake her up.

"What? What kind of mission?" She asked, concern in her voice.

He sighed. "Undercover. It's going to last for quite a long time, too- at least three months, I'd say."

"Oh, Clint… Cooper's been looking forward to time with you." Laura lamented.

"I know." Clint replied, sadness pulling at him. "But it's important. I'll make sure to call you guys at least thrice a week, okay? It isn't a particularly dangerous mission, either. Just getting information."

There was a moment of silence. "Clint, you'd better be safe. And I expect at least four phone calls a week." She finally said, firmly.

He chuckled. "Yes, Ma'am. Can I say goodbye to the kids?"

"Mm… sure." There was more shifting and the sound of padding feet. "Lila?" His wife whispered.

"Mommy? Is Daddy on the phone?" Seconds later his daughter was speaking clearly into the phone. "Hi, Daddy!" She sounded tired, too, and her voice was croaking, but she seemed fairly cheery.

"Hi, Sweetpea. I have to go on a super-secret mission, Honey. I'm going to be gone for a long time. But I'm going to make sure to call you all the time, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy! Come home soon! Love you!" Lila exclaimed innocently. He smiled.

"Of course, Baby. Love you, too! Now get some more sleep."

Laura took the phone back. "Here's Cooper."

"Hi, Dad! Are you going away?" Now his son had the phone.

Clint sighed sadly but kept his voice light. "Unfortunately, yes. It's going to be a long mission, too."

"Oh…" Cooper trailed off disappointedly.

"But I'm going to call you all the time, I promise. Can you take care of the ladies while I'm away, Sport?"

"Yeah! I won't let anything happen to them, Dad!" Cooper sounded excited at the prospect of being the 'man of the house' for awhile.

"Thanks, Coop. I love you."

"Love you, too! Bye!"

Laura was back now. "Is Nat going with you?" She asked knowingly.

"Yes."

A chuckle. "Tell her that I say to keep you out of trouble." Then her voice got serious again. "Clint, I love you. Please get back to us safely."

"I love you, Laura. If you need any help with the kids, just contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and they might be able to spare an agent. I'll be calling as often as I can."

"Alright, Clint. I'll let you get back to your mission prep, then. Bye!"

"Goodbye, Laura- talk to you later." Then he hung up and double-checked his drawers for anything he might have forgotten to pack.

* * *

Natasha walked into her room, collected all of her belongings and placed them into a single bag; the bag was already mostly packed, as she never felt the urge to unpack in this place. So, all she really collected was her tooth brush and the pyjamas she wore last night- which Clint had brought her for when she slept around his. However, she had to admit, she felt better when she wore them, and slept easier.

Checking the time, she realised it took her a whole two minutes to gather all of her things and decided to make her way to the SHIELD undercover clothes room. She wasn't sure what they would have supplied for her and Clint to wear, so she wanted to see if she was able to choose some of her own.

Thankfully, they were all very cooperative, and she managed to get another bag- this one fuller- with 'personal items'.

She still managed to turn up to the meeting point over an hour early, and patiently waited for her partner.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello! Thank you for the lovely response I received on the first chapter, and thank you to avengersmaniac15 for reviewing!**

 **To clear things up, yes, this is a platonic Clintasha story, so my apologies for those who thought otherwise :)**

* * *

Natasha lifted her legs, placing them on the dash and crossing them at the ankles. "It's a five hour drive." She stated from the passenger's seat as Clint drove, switching the radio station.

Clint sighed at the classical music station she'd selected. When he turned to nag her about it, however, something else apparently caught his eye. "Hey! Buckle your seatbelt!" He scolded.

She threw him a small amused glare before pulling the seatbelt over herself and strapping in. "What's the big deal? It's easier to get out of a car when somebody's shooting at you if you're not wearing a seatbelt." She pointed out. 'Safety first' didn't bode well with being an assassin. Being cautious got you killed.

"Nobody's going to be shooting at us on _this_ car ride, Nat." Clint shot back. "I make my children buckle up every single time, and I won't let you escape that rule either- not when I'm driving."

"That's different; Cooper's four and Lila…" She paused. "They are too young to even buckle themselves- you do it for them." She countered, as if that response would invalidate his point on the matter. She decided to add one last thing. "And I'm not your child."

"Yes, but you are my children's honorary aunt; if you died in a car accident, how do think that would affect Coop and Lila, huh?" Clint argued. "Actually, on second thought, if you died from not wearing your seatbelt, maybe it would prove to them how important seatbelts are…" He added thoughtfully.

Natasha scoffed. "No, don't use me as an excuse for how you discipline your children- otherwise I'll haunt you. I praise myself on being the 'fun aunt'."

Clint snorted but didn't further the discussion.

They fell into a comfortable silence for nearly twenty minutes before Natasha broke it. "We're married, right? Where's my ring?" She questioned.

"In the glove compartment, I think," he answered, gesturing.

She rifled through it, finding them and making a show at sliding hers onto her finger. "Wow, you must love me a lot- these are lovely rings. Here's yours." She held out her hand so he could take the ring.

He grabbed his ring and slid it onto his finger deftly. "Thanks." He returned both hands to the steering wheel and all was quiet for a moment. "How long do you think this mission will last?"

"I wouldn't predict longer than a month." Natasha replied. "But, if it goes over a month- say by a week- we'll head out and visit your brother and his children for a few days."

Clint smiled at her for a second. "Yeah. We wouldn't want to miss my brother's birthday." He replied. He loved that one of the first things Natasha planned was them going to celebrate his son, Cooper's, birthday. "For our engagement, I'm thinking a big banner in the sky asking you in secret code to marry me." He stated.

"No secret code- we are a normal couple. A simple, 'Natasha, Will you Marry Me?' is more believable." She amended. "And we nearly missed seeing the banner because we were dancing on the beach. But I didn't hesitate to say yes."

Clint smiled just a little. "How romantic," he crooned. "And our wedding was on that same beach, but it almost got washed out since the tides suddenly acted up."

"My poor wedding dress was ruined!

"And Mary, your maid of honor, was in tears because she'd helped you fix up that dress, which used to belong to your mother, so she absolutely _had_ to help you fix it again. She saved the wedding." Clint added, fully caught up in the imagining.

"Which didn't matter in the end; it was off within an hour of the wedding because we booked a hotel on the beach for a few days before flying off for our honeymoon," Natasha continued.

Clint laughed at that. "And our honeymoon was in-?" He stopped, gazing at her questioningly.

"The Caribbean." She finished for him. "We were there for two weeks. That was just over two years ago now… we've both always wanted a big family…"

"But we found out a few months ago that neither of us are capable of having children." He said rather sadly, making sure they were both included in that inability so she didn't feel singled out- he hoped to lessen the discomfort, considering she actually couldn't have children.

Natasha nodded and remained silent for a few moments. "We had a few failed adoptions, due to…" She trailed off, once again, falling into silence for a few moments. "My background."

"Yeah, you've got a small criminal record for petty theft and… neglect of a minor?" Clint asked. "That would make it impossible for us to legally adopt, so we'd have a more understandable reason to adopt illegally."

"I was nineteen- stupid pigs." Natasha muttered, in character. "We both just want a fresh start and to start a family."

"And I've got this brother, Phillip Cole, who visits often and is a known drug lord." Clint added with a snicker. "His reputation made it really hard for any agencies to even _consider_ adopting to us."

Natasha nodded. "Anything else we need to cover?" She asked, distractedly flicking through the radio channels.

"Well, there's our entire lives left to figure out… How did we meet?" He started with the first question that came to mind.

A small smile graced her lips as she turned to look at him. "You're convinced that we met at a bar in March and hit it off. But we actually met on New Year's Eve a few months before that. I was still dating this jerk who had just abandoned me in the middle of the club to go and get high, and you danced with me- although you were wasted and claim you don't remember."

"Because I _don't_ remember!" Clint defended, in character now. "All that I've got from that night are flashes of pink and someone asking me where the balloons were."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You're useless sometimes. You know that, Clint?" She replied. "But, we officially met at a bar. Which I almost didn't go to."

Clint nodded. "Right. And I ended up there after my girlfriend dumped me for a male model from Switzerland. I might have had a few too many… but I was totally justified."

"If you say so." Natasha replied with a chuckle before leaning back. "Wake me up when we get there." She told him, closing her eyes.

Clint smirked. "Sure thing, Sunshine." He teased and returned his focus to driving.

* * *

Natasha was already awake when they pulled up to their 'new home'. She looked around at the white picket fenced houses, the normal life that so many people had. "Home sweet home," she muttered almost bitterly at the seemingly perfect lives.

Beside her, Clint chuckled. "You okay, Darling?" He drawled. "Don't start brooding."

She flashed a smile his way. "Brooding? I'm so excited to be at our new home. Come on, love, let's get unpacked. I just can't wait to see the kitchen and plan what to cook." She said in an over-excited voice before opening the door and sliding out of the car.

"You got it, Sweetheart." He replied, following suit. He grabbed their suitcases from the trunk and handed one to her. "Nice place." He said, analysing the house.

Natasha looked up at the house. "Not very secure," she observed quietly, picking up one of the bags. "Incoming." She warned, turning around in time to smile sweetly at a couple crossing the road towards them.

"Hey! You must be our new neighbours. I'm Joelle, and this is my husband, Peter. We live just across the street from you!" An overly perky women introduced. She knew they were the Pullets from the research she'd conducted.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joelle. I'm Natasha, and this is my husband, Clint," she introduced with a smile, nearly as perky as their new neighbours.

Clint extended a hand and eagerly shook with both of them, a cheery smile plastered on his face. "Nice to meet y'all. How long have you two lived on the block?" He asked with clearly feigned interest.

Peter stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and whistled. "Well damn, it's been- what? Twenty years?" He asked his wife. She nodded. "Yeah, twenty. Moved here right before our second was born."

Clint nodded along. "Wow, that's a long time. We haven't had much luck with our last few homes- they just weren't our dream house, you know?" Peter laughed a deep belly laugh and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, you have children? How delightful! How old are they?" Natasha asked, her whole face brightening up.

"We have four, actually; the youngest has just turned seven- they grow up so fast." Joelle began before listing her children. "There's Laura- she's the oldest, at 23- and then Tanner- he's twenty- was born only a few months after we moved here. Then, we were surprised when Joy came- she's 10. And then Courtney is our youngest. How about you?"

Natasha's face saddened, "Unfortunately, we're unable to have children." She replied and exchanged a meaningful hug with Joelle- it was almost like they had known each other for years and she was sharing this news. It was almost sweet how Joelle seemed genuinely gutted for her, but also weird.

"That's a damn shame, little lady." Peter said. "Sorry."

Clint smiled tightly. "It's okay. We've been dealing just fine so far." He put his arm around Natasha's shoulders.

Natasha wiped a tear away. "Sorry, I'm just emotional today. Moving is a big deal. And getting settled in when you don't know the place always gets to me."

"Oh! It must be a nuisance to unpack and cook. How about you and your husband eat at our place tonight? Save you having to work out dinner?"

"We couldn't intrude, could we, Clint?" Natasha questioned, looking at him. "But, if it's not too much hassle?"

"Not at all! Dinner is at 5:30- just come on over to number seven."

"Number seven… Alright, we'll be there! Thank you!" Clint said, perking up again.

"'S no problem, kids." Peter said kindly in his gruff voice. "C'mon, Joelle, let's get back now." He took her hand and they returned to their home across the street.

Clint turned to Natasha. "Well, that was… interesting."

Natasha looked up at him. "Courtney is seven, similar age to our targets' son. They probably go school together- the families should be close."

Clint nodded. "Yeah, good point." He commented. "Maybe they'll know something?"

"Even if they don't, it's a good way to get introduced," She replied, turning and giving Joelle a small wave before walking into their new 'home'. "Well, this is sickly sweet."

"Adorable is what it is." Clint corrected, eyes roving over the floral wallpaper and the framed paintings of forest scenes left from the previous owners.

Natasha dropped her bag on the settee. "I hear there's a box in the trunk filled with 'personal photos' for us to put up. I'm sure that would be a blast."

"I just hope they're all of my good side." Clint chuckled. "A box of the more important documents we don't already have should be hidden in the attic."

She nodded. "Great, let's unpack and make it look like we intend to live here for the rest of our natural lives." She sighed, picking her bag back out- she had never considered buying herself an actual place. Clint had one and had suggested that she buy herself one, but she didn't see the point in that. Looking around, she realised it would be better than staying in a place like this- the wallpaper made her want to throw up.

"Yes, but what about our _un_ natural lives?" Clint joked. He dropped his bags on the ground beside hers and began pulling some personal effects out, such as a framed picture of what looked to be his mother, and placed them about the sitting room. "There. Now it looks more homey." Clint said, proudly examining his work.

Natasha raised an eyebrow before pulling out a framed photo of the two of them, both looking five years younger. "You remember this, right? When we went to Brighton, England for two weeks?" She questioned lightly, bringing up an event that had never happened.

He caught on. "Ah, yes." He said in an exaggerated and totally corny British accent. "It was quite magnificent." He sent her a crooked smile.

"We should certainly go back to England for our anniversary this year, love."

"Anything for you, dearest." He replied, laying it on thick.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello, thank you for all of your support! I really enjoy writing this story!**

 **Thank you to the two who reviewed the previous chapter, it means a lot to me: Junipa Ivanova and Princess2016.**

* * *

Clint stared at the item in his hand in something akin to disbelief. The box of provided personal photos was completely full of pictures from various points in their lives- well, mostly his; there were only two pictures of Nat that he'd found so far, all during late teenagerdom, and the rest were mostly his school pictures. The one he held was from his old daycare provider when he was… four? Why was his hair bleach blonde? And did he have… a mullet? He cringed. "Who in their right mind sees this haircut on a kid and doesn't immediately break out the shears?" He muttered, mostly to himself. He hoped Natasha hadn't seen the embarrassing photo.

Natasha appeared behind him, quickly grabbing the photo. "Oh, weren't you cute? We should frame this one." She teased, a grin on her face.

Clint groaned. "No! We should kill it with fire." He objected sulkily.

"Definitely not." She countered.

"Um, yes, we should." Clint argued, crossing his arms. He didn't care how childish he sounded- he wanted the picture _gone._

Natasha smirked. "Even if you get rid of this picture, it was printed at SHIELD- therefore this is not the only copy."

"Noooooo!" Clint cried dramatically. "Now they have blackmail material! I'm ruined! _Ruined!"_

"Clint, grow up- I don't want to be married to a _child_." Natasha rolled her eyes, throwing the photo at him.

He caught it deftly, still frowning. "And yet you really want to show off a picture of me _as_ a child." He retorted. "A _bad_ picture, too! That haircut is a nightmare!"

"I think it's cute." Natasha insisted with a smug grin.

Clint scowled. "I am _not_ cute! That picture is _not_ cute!" He persisted, knowing full well this wouldn't get him anywhere.

* * *

Natasha twisted her arm awkwardly and managed to zip up her knee-length tea-dress. The cream colour matched her skin tone perfectly and the red roses patterned across it matched her hair- she frowned as she wondered who had done the shopping for her. She clipped her hair back and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Woah- and all I've got is this." Clint commented as he gestured to his fancily-patterned shirt and khakis. "You look really nice!"

"Thanks, but I'd rather be in the khakis and shirt." Natasha replied, lifting the skirt and securing her gun on her holster before letting it drop. "You look good." She added as an afterthought- complimenting one another should come naturally if they are married.

Clint slipped on some dressy shoes. "Why thank you- I spent hours perfecting this look." He sent her a lopsided smile.

Sliding on her shoes, she sent him a half-smirk. "I can tell- you usually look like a scruffy idiot; now you're just an idiot." She teased.

"Shut up," he retorted, though his smile hadn't left. "I wish I could make a similar remark, but a man shouldn't be so rude to his wife."

"What are we? Stuck in the 1940s?" Natasha remarked.

"Hey, I'm allowing you to wear that inappropriate dress, aren't I? I mean, I can totally see your ankles! Scandalous!" Clint replied, combing his fingers through his hair.

Natasha gasped. "My ankles! I must not leave the house!" She teased before picking up her bag. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Clint said. "Let's go be 'neighbours'."

She nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Clint double-checked his 'dressy casual' outfit, pleased to find no wrinkles or folds, before sharing a look with Natasha and ringing the doorbell. The early-evening sunlight bounced off the glass of the screen door and made him have to squint uncomfortably.

"Joelle, it's the new neighbours!" Peter called after pulling the door open. "Come on in, you two. The missus is just finishing dinner."

"Thanks again for having us!" Clint said enthusiastically, internally hoping this wouldn't be as terrible as he feared. He'd never been one for formal dinner with neighbours.

Peter waved it off with a small smile. "No trouble at all. This way." He led them into a rather quaint dining room with floral wallpaper and soft lighting. The table was set for five people. Clint was confused, as he'd thought it would only be him, Natasha, Peter and Joelle. "Our youngest will be down in a moment." Peter explained upon seeing Clint's slightly furrowed brow.

"Your youngest- that's Laura, right?" Natasha asked.

Joelle walked in. "Laura's our _oldest-_ Courtney is our youngest. I'll go get her." She said, walking straight back out of the room.

Poor woman seemed so busy. Clint glanced over at Peter, who was now languidly sitting at the head of the table, cutting up a ham. The man beckoned them to sit at his left. "So how are things coming along with the house? I know ya just moved in today, but you seem like the types to get lots done." Peter asked conversationally.

"Our furniture was pre-delivered and set up, so we only had a selection of items to unpack. A few boxes each, that is." Natasha replied with a soft smile.

"That's handy." Peter commented. An awkward silence befell the small group, making Clint feel compelled to come up with a conversation topic.

"Do you guys have any pets?" He blurted, almost wanting to slap himself at how forced and idiotic it sounded.

Peter chuckled. "Used to have an old sheepdog, Curley. She passed a few years ago, though. Now we've got a cat that we rarely see."

Natasha lips turned upwards, her eyes flicking around the room; she was obviously looking for said cat. "I'm more of a cat person, personally."

"So's Courtney. She dresses that thing up like a princess or like a bumble bee- then she lets it wander the neighbourhood like that. The other neighbours always get a kick outta that."

Clint laughed a little. "So if we see a well-dressed cat, we know whose it is, then."

"Poor kitty." Natasha said stepping to the end of the room and picking up a honey-coloured cat.

"Mo- _om_! I don't want to!" Came a young girl's voice from down the hall. "They're old, anyway- it's not like they have a kid my age! Please don't make me!" Ah, that must have been Courtney.

Natasha looked at Peter. "I can tell she's super excited to meet us." She joked.

Peter frowned. "She's only seven, so she gets this rowdy attitude that Joelle and I aren't much fond of." Moments later Joelle returned, gently pushing a little girl in front of her.

" _Mom_! Stop!" Courtney protested futilely. Clint wanted to greet her, but got the feeling that any address from him or Natasha would be unwelcome.

Natasha sauntered over to Clint, half offering for him to stoke the cat as she leant in and whispered in his ear. "That kid's a brat- there's no way we'll get the parents to talk while she's here."

Clint gave a tiny nod of agreement. "We'll have to wait till she's gone." He replied before turning back to the family. Courtney had been forced into the chair on Peter's other side, with Joelle seated beside her. "Hello, Courtney. I'm Clint Cole, and this is Natasha, my wife." He introduced.

"Nice t'meetchu." Courtney muttered, not making eye contact. Joelle sighed exasperatedly.

"I apologise for our daughter's behaviour." She offered.

Clint shrugged. "It's fine- kids will be kids, after all." Natasha's expression and hum was less understanding as she took her seat, releasing the cat.

"Alright, ready t' eat?" Peter asked, spearing a slice of ham and putting it on Clint's plate, then doing the same with Natasha's and his wife and daughter's. "Mashed potatoes are in that bowl there."

"Thank you. This looks delicious!" Clint praised, taking a bite of the meat. It was really good.

Natasha took a bite and made a sound of approval. "Hmm- can we come over everyday? This is truly delicious."

Peter chuckled. "Sure- but it'll cost ya." His smile indicated he was just kidding.

"Mom, I _hate_ ham." Courtney whined.

"You should be thankful, little girl. I never got anything this good when I was your age." Natasha said coolly.

Courtney paused and stared at Natasha. "But…" She trailed off, turning to her father. "Daddy! The new neighbour's being mean!"

Peter fixed the girl with a stern stare. "Courtney, you'd best get your act together before your ass is in trouble." He scolded. Clint was almost tempted to laugh; apparently this was one of those families that didn't practice the 'no cussing around the children' rule.

Natasha's eyes narrowed at the young girl for a split second before it stoned a 'natural' and calm look. "It's fine, she can be disrespectful if she wishes; she does live here."

Joelle opened her mouth to respond but closed it and looked at her daughter. "Eat your food."

Courtney spluttered indignantly before sinking in her chair and muttering, "Fine." Clint winced. This was a nightmare- apart from the amazing food, of course. He decided to lighten the mood.

"So, what are the best qualities about this neighbourhood?"

Peter scratched at his balding head for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Well… there's a public park a few blocks down, and Mrs. Dunsey, next door, loves makin' industrial-sized batches of cookies that she'll share with the littluns." He looked to his wife, as though asking silently if there was anything else she could add.

"There's a zumba class for adults on Mondays, down the block- it's really fun." Joelle replied. "Apart from that, it's just the neighbours."

"Anyone particularly interesting? It seems like every neighbourhood has its share of interesting people." Clint continued.

Surprisingly, it was Courtney who eagerly answered. "Oh! Mr. Donovan, on the next street over, was in jail once! He said it was for having lots of medicine or something." Joelle and Peter shared a horrified look.

"Courtney, stay away from Mr. Donovan." Peter ordered. Courtney gave him a confused look, but his expression must have convinced her not to argue.

Clint awkwardly cleared his throat, which made Peter seem to remember what they'd been talking about. "Well, aside from that guy, there's the Tinneys, the family four doors down with seven biological children and four foster children. They're always out and noisy at around noon, by the way."

"Good to know."

"Let's see…" Joelle chipped in. "There's Ms. Liu, about two blocks east, who fosters shelter dogs- she always lets Courtney and her friends play with them."

The conversation lasted for almost twenty minutes, and by then everyone was done eating. Joelle took Courtney upstairs to get her ready for bed while Peter took Clint and Natasha to the living room, offering them each a glass of wine. "Once again, sorry Courtney acted like that. She's been moody lately."

Clint offered a reassuring smile. "It's fine- we're used to snotty kids after the last apartment complex we stayed in." Natasha picked up the act easily.

"Oh, there was a family of at least four children on either side of us, and they always loved playing in the hallway directly outside our door at ungodly hours." She said sourly.

Peter winced sympathetically. "Damn, I don't envy you."

Natasha shook her head. "So far, I prefer this neighbourhood."

"'m glad. Hopefully you two can add some more colour to it." Peter replied.

"Speaking of which, I was meaning to ask earlier: are there many kids on this block, other than Courtney and the Tinney family's?" Clint asked, deciding it was time to get to the important questions at last.

Peter thought for a few moments. "Well, let's see… There's the Ketin twins one block down, then there's… oh, there's the li'l Rothman boy. I think the rest of the neighbours 're mostly elderly or childless."

"Rothman… that sounds familiar. Anything significant about that family?" Clint probed carefully.

Peter shook his head. "They were trying for a long time to adopt, and I remember 'em complaining about being treated unfairly."

"It was a surprise when they finally adopted Ryan, because it all happened pretty quickly. At one point they were denied, and then a few weeks later he was living with them." Joelle added as she entered and sat by her husband.

Clint hid his eagerness about that subject very well, he thought. "That seems odd." He commented casually. Peter jerked his head in a nod.

"Yeah, we were really shocked. They're a good family, but after being denied a few times for… I'm not sure what… we were surprised- but happy for them- when they managed to adopt Ryan."

Clint cleared his throat. He wanted to ask more questions, but that would be leaving the 'appropriately curious' zone and would be a little too conspicuous and obvious. They needed to be careful about how much they tried to get out of these two- they needed to do it in moderation, otherwise the neighbours would start to get suspicious.

"We should head back home- I'm pretty tired. It was a long drive here earlier." Natasha said softly, standing up to leave.

Clint stood as well, as did Joelle and Peter. "Thank you so much for having us- the food was amazing and this was fun." Clint said kindly, shaking their hands. "We'll be sure to invite you over to our place sometime once we're unpacked."

Natasha nodded in agreement. She and Joelle hugged briefly. "You're welcome over any time." Joelle commented.

"Thank you." Natasha replied sweetly before taking Clint's hand and pulling him out the door a little faster.

"Bye!" Clint called over his shoulder, getting friendly waves from the couple before turning back to their house and following Natasha inside. Once the front door was closed behind them, he let out a sigh. What a night.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello! FF's still being a bit weird with viewing reviews, but that doesn't stop me from posting another chapter!**

 **This chapter is a little short than the others, but it happens to be my favourite so far!**

* * *

Natasha bent down and ruffled the soft thick fur on the large dog. "Hey, Rusty. Let's play some catch." She suggested. In all honesty, she had no idea what this dog's name was- he was supplied to them by S.H.I.E.L.D so they could go for 'walks' and be around parks without looking too weird.

Clint was beside her, eyes scanning the nearby playground in a seemingly casual way. "I thought we'd agreed on 'Sensei'." He inputted distractedly. The golden retriever nudged Clint's pant leg. "See? He likes it."

"Does it matter?" Natasha asked, eyeing up a certain family, dangling the toy in front of the dog's face and throwing it straight over to the feet of said family. They watched as the dog raced straight over to get the toy and ran straight into the man's legs in the process. "There's our opening."

Clint nodded once and jogged to the man, who was regaining his balance, apologizing profusely. "I am _so_ sorry! Rusty-Sensei can be so clumsy sometimes!" He grabbed the dog's collar and attached it to the leash they'd brought. "Are you alright?" He asked as Natasha went to his side, making it appear as though she was slower than him- as most women usually were or at least expected to be. _As stereotypical and unassuming as possible._

The man, Mr. Rothman, nodded. "Yeah, it's fine."

The son, Ryan, looked at the dog in amazement. "Can I pet him?"

Clint smiled kindly. "Sure, buddy. He's as friendly as he is dumb."

The woman, who was, according the files, Mrs. Rothman, said, "Ryan, honey, don't pet him backwards!" She corrected her son's hand movements and continued to supervise him. "Sorry about that- we don't have any pets." She explained to Clint and Natasha. She eyed them up for a minute. "Are you new around here? I don't think I've ever seen you before, and I know most of the townspeople."

Natasha nodded while Clint knelt down and began showing Ryan the cool tricks the dog had been trained to do. "We just moved in a few blocks south of here." She said, pointing in the direction of their home- it was walking distance from the park, which was proving to be handy.

The other woman smiled as she stood up. "Well, we happen to live just a few blocks away from you, then. Nice to meet you, new neighbours!" She extended a hand for Natasha to shake.

"I'm Natasha, and this is my husband, Clint." Natasha introduced with a smile as she placed a hand on Clint's arm.

"I'm Mary, this is my husband, Jesse, and our son, Ryan." Mary introduced, ruffling the boy's hair and making him giggle. She returned her gaze to Clint and Natasha, subtly looking around them. Her husband shook their hands before bending down with their son and stroking the dog too. "Do you have any kids?"

Clint shook his head. "Unfortunately not." He answered with a sad smile.

Natasha sent a scolding look his way, placing a hand on his arm less affectionately before turning back and smiling at the couple. "No, we don't have any children. Just Rusty." She replied with a soft smile sent at the dog.

The look of understanding on Mary's face was so genuine that even a stranger could see that she had had firsthand experience with what they briefly described. "Well, Rusty is very sweet." She said, not pushing the topic of children or asking why they didn't have any.

Clint smiled kindly. "And your son seems like a wonderful young man." He replied, directing it partially at the boy himself. Ryan rocked on his heels shyly, a big smile on his face.

Jesse stood back up. "We should head back home- Ryan has soccer practice soon."

"Of course." Clint said. "It was great meeting you."

Mary nudged Ryan until he said, "Nice to meetchu." Then she offered them both her hand to shake one more time. "We'll have to meet up again soon- it's been a long time since I've had a neighbour to hang out with." She said cheerily.

"Yes, that would be great! I don't really know anybody around here, apart from some neighbours who live opposite us- what were their names again, hun?" Natasha asked Clint.

"Oh, Joelle and Peter? Yeah, they were nice." Clint inputted, sticking his hands in his pockets as Rusty-Sensei obediently sat beside him on the grass.

"Alright, well, we'll see you around." Jesse said politely before they walked off.

Natasha waved. "Come on, Rusty, want to play?" She asked.

"It's Sensei." Clint corrected, humour in his voice.

* * *

Dinner that night would be a team effort, as Clint and Natasha had gone food shopping the day before and now had the ingredients for a proper home-cooked meal. They'd decided on a vegetable stew, and since so many vegetables needed to be cut and prepped before being added, they each set up their cutting boards on their own stretches of counter, their backs to each other. Clint was making his way through the potatoes and had just finished washing and peeling them. "Knife." He called over his shoulder, arranging them to be cut.

"Yep." She replied succinctly, deftly grabbing one of the larger knives from the block and throwing it back and over her head. Clint caught it easily, eyes never leaving the potatoes, and began to chop them. Slowly the pot began to fill with varied ingredients. Clint was slicing some onions when Natasha called, "Plate." Clint opened the cabinet by his head and grabbed a plate, tossing it to her like a frisbee.

"Comin' atcha." Natasha didn't have to look to catch the projectile, and she did so almost casually. She transferred the unusable remains of the vegetables onto the plate, then dumped them into the trash. "Trash." Clint said, tossing her a rotten potato he'd found at the bottom of the bag. She caught it, frowned at it, and threw it away before returning to her station.

A few minutes later, she held her hand out expectantly behind her. "Peeler." It landed in her hand moments later, and she proceeded to peel the carrots.

They both filled the pot with everything before turning around simultaneously, both mildly surprised at how close they were before stepping in opposite directions. Natasha turned on the stove seconds before Clint filled the pot with hot water. "Paris." Natasha stated.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Paris?" He asked, beginning to fill the sink with soapy water.

"I'd like to go to Paris." Natasha expanded and then elaborated. "When I'm not there for a mission."

"Ah. I've always wanted to visit Madrid." Clint replied, scrubbing a cutting board. "We gonna be travelling?"

Natasha slid up onto the counter beside him, picking up a towel. "There's nothing better to do."

Clint again raised an eyebrow, snorting a little. "You mean besides gathering intel to help stop illegal adoption and subsequently stop a rash of kidnappings?"

"Exactly- apart from that, what are we doing?" Natasha asked before answering her own question. "Nothing. Or maybe after we leave here… or I could head out by myself."

"Now where's the fun in that?" Clint asked, humour in his voice. "Maybe we could go to Paris for our wedding anniversary."

Natasha laughed, shaking her head slightly in amusement. "Paris is the place for love."

"And for miles of catacombs full of skeletons. How awesome would it be if we explored those?" Clint said enthusiastically. "I wonder if it would be possible for _us_ to get lost in there."

"That's _very_ romantic, Clint." Natasha muttered sarcastically.

He laughed. "I'm a hopeless romantic."

"You wish. I've met dogs more romantic than you." She teased.

"Really? I bet I can make you wet," he winked suggestively at her. At her challenging look, an arm swept around her waist and pulled her into the sink.

Natasha instantly grabbed a knife, almost slitting his throat- and would have, too, if he hadn't jumped quick enough.

"Honey, let's not do this now- we can still make the marriage work!" Clint implored dramatically.

She smirked at him. "After we adopt a kid, I want a divorce." She replied teasingly as she placed the knife on the counter.

Clint smirked right back. "You can have that kid- I've already got two."

"How heartless." Natasha commented, jumping out of the sink and staring at him. "Next time you make me wet, I'll make sure you can't have any more children- like you said, you already have three." She smirked as she walked away.

Clint muttered several expletives under his breath, sidestepping around her as she passed with his hand discreetly guarding the threatened areas, gaze suspicious. After she was gone, he sighed in relief and returned to washing the dishes and mopping up the huge mess they'd made.

* * *

Natasha opened her laptop, staring at the time intently, ready for the prearranged mission update with Coulson. Three seconds, two… one… _Ring, ring_. Right on time- Coulson always was. She clicked 'answer' on the video call and greeted him with a nod. "Coulson." She acknowledged.

"Ah, yes, Romanoff. How are things going?" He asked professionally.

"We made contact with the target twenty hours ago." Natasha answered shortly, keeping to his questions. She knew that it was sometimes more helpful for her to give a long-winded minute-by-minute report about the mission, but she had been known to go into too much detail when trying that. Therefore, short and to-the-point answers suited both her and Coulson- especially if she didn't follow the book.

Coulson nodded. "And it went well, I presume? No suspicions have been raised?" He leaned back in his large leather chair, folding his hands on his stomach.

"It went according to plan." Natasha answered. "What is our deadline to get the information out of the targets?"

"No deadline, per se." Coulson replied. "Take your time to get to know the targets, to become comfortable. We want the adoption discussion to come naturally and avoid hinting at your true motives."

Natasha blinked. Natural? How does one _naturally_ bring up adoption? "What time frame are we talking about, Sir?"

Coulson sighed. "This is classified as a long-term mission. Maximum time allotted is one year from the first briefing, since everything is monitored and we can't burn this lead. Of course, we don't expect it to take that long."

She gave a confirming tilt of the head. "Understood."

"Good. Now get back out there." Coulson instructed, though a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Give your husband my regards."

Natasha chuckled. "Will do, Grandpa!" She teased, enjoying the surprise on his face before she ended the call.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading!**_

 _ **A review would always be, very much so, appreciated!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:**

 **My updating on this story is so irregular! I sincerely apologise! But thank you for those who are still with me!**

 **Huge thank you to** **Psalm46.10 who reviewed the last chapter! Your kind words honestly made my day! :D**

 **Shout-out to my beta, ThisVioletofMine!**

* * *

Clint paced distractedly around the sitting room, his phone pressed to his ear. "No, Laura, I can't come home right now."

"Clint, honey, I know you're doing important work, but please- it's been _two months_!" Laura cried.

"Yes, I know it's been a long time…" Clint replied with a sigh.

Laura made a frustrated sound. "Well when _will_ you be home?"

"Look, you know I can't tell you that- I don't know!" He said in his own defense.

Laura was less than pleased. "Clint, when I married you, I knew there would be times when you'd be gone- and I get that you can't control where S.H.I.E.L.D sends you. But I'm getting to the end of my rope with these kids! I barely get any sleep! I've had to change soiled bedsheets _at least_ four times, I've had to tend to three cuts and scrapes, I've had to deal with Lila's constant whining about you not being around- I need you home!" Clint listened to his wife's rant patiently. Laura wasn't one to be aggressive, either verbally or physically, but she had been looking after their two young children by herself for months, and he could tell she was stressed and exhausted, so he didn't blame her for needing to take out her frustrations on him.

When she had calmed down a little, he kept his tone sympathetic. "Honey, I hear you. I do. I want nothing more than to be home with you, Coop and Lila. It's hard being away from you all for so long. But there are children here, too, and they need my help. I can't leave until the people kidnapping these children are brought to justice."

Laura groaned, but she still made a conceding sound. "Alright, I get it. I want them caught just as much as you. It's just… it's really difficult, being a single mom."

"Aw, Laura, I'll try my best to get this done quickly." Clint said, sad that his wife felt that way.

Natasha walked in, glancing at him pointedly and tapping her watch.

Letting out a sigh, Clint gestured an affirmative to her before returning to Laura. "I'm sorry, Babe, but I gotta go. We're visiting people who have information about the kidnappers. Talk to you tonight?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, okay." Laura agreed tiredly. Her tone was a little more like her usual positive self, though. "Good luck. Be careful." He promised he would. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Then he ended the call and turned to Natasha. "Alright, let's go."

Natasha grabbed her jacket. "You're calling her too much- you need to be careful. If our cover is blown, the whole mission is screwed." She warned.

Clint pulled on his own jacket. "Our cover won't be blown, Nat. We're so deeply undercover that it's almost a habit now for me to say my last name is Cole."

"That still doesn't change the fact that if somebody overheard you telling someone on the phone that you love them and wish you were at home, or if they overhear you talking about your children, we _will_ be screwed. Don't compromise the mission, Clint." She told him almost forcefully.

"Gah, alright, I _get_ it! Stop treating me like a trainee." Clint complained, leading the way out the front door.

"Then stop acting like one." Natasha retorted. The door shut and she was on his arm within a second.

Clint snorted. "Quit being so cold- you called me just as often when you went undercover alone."

"There's a difference." Natasha pointed out.

Clint batted his eyes innocently. "How so? You're madly in love with me, so I see no difference."

Natasha blew a kiss at him. "Of course. But I _know_ that if somebody traces the call back to you, you can defend yourself."

"Well, La-" He cut off, remembering that they were now, technically, in public, where any passersby could hear them. "Grandma Lorraine can easily kick ass, despite how wonderfully sweet she is."

"Yes, but Little One and Little Two, not so much. And Grandma is good, but she's currently outnumbered." Natasha pointed out before knocking on the door.

As they waited for the Rothmans to come to the door, Clint said, "Nat, can we discuss this later?"

She threw on a wide smile as the door opened. "Anything for you, Sweetheart." She looked up at the couple in the doorway. "Hello! Sorry we're early."

Mary smiled kindly, beckoning them inside. "Oh, that's fine! We've already made the cookies," she said, gesturing to Ryan, who nodded eagerly from behind her, "so we're glad you came sooner!"

Clint knelt down to Ryan's level. "Hey, big man! How're you?"

Ryan waved shyly. "Good." He said. They'd visited the Rothmans a few times, but Ryan was still rather reserved around them. Eventually he'd come out of his shell, though. Clint smiled again and stood to address the other adults.

"How have things been with that railing? My repairs holding strong?" He asked Jesse.

"It's been a lifesaver! I was terrified that it'd break and somebody would get hurt." Jesse replied with a smile as he clasped Clint's back.

Natasha crossed the hallway with Mary. "How's your sister? Did the operation go well?"

Mary beamed. "She's going to make a full recovery- she'll be discharged in a week!"

Their conversation faded as Clint and Jesse wandered into the study. "I heard the high-schoolers won their football championship this year." Clint commented idly, examining the titles of the various books lining the shelves.

Jesse nodded eagerly. "They did! They're currently in the lead. We'll definitely be sending Ryan to that school."

"Cool." Clint replied absently. "Isn't it weird to think that your kid will be a teenager soon? I wonder what that's like." He said carefully, secretly watching Jesse from the corner of his eye to see if he would take the bait and willingly open that passage of conversation. If Clint forced the topic on him, the man might get suspicious or closed off.

"Dude, that's a strange thought. It feels like it was just yesterday when we adopted him." Jesse reminisced, looking at a photograph of a younger Ryan. "They grow up so quickly."

Clint carefully kept his expression upbeat. "I'm sure they do." Then he took a breath. "Natasha and I have tried adopting… It hasn't worked out." He admitted, forcing sadness into his face gradually.

"Oh." Jesse said, turning to face him. "Want me to give you the number of the guy who helped us? He's a miracle worker, honestly."

Hook, line, and sinker. Clint feigned a look of surprised happiness. "Really? He could help us? I mean…" He leant in reluctantly. "Nat's… got a bit of a record, so no one will adopt to us. It was a small, insignificant charge, but… You know the system." He pulled a face.

Jesse nodded understandingly. "Mary and I had a similar issue, but Ventura is a true professional. He looks past that and focuses on you as people. He gives everybody a fair chance- asks a _lot_ of questions, but it's worth it." He crossed the room to his desk.

Clint internally wondered why they weren't immediately suspicious about such a character, but reminded himself that, no, normal couples weren't trained as spies who questioned everything and everyone's authenticity, and they were also desperate to be parents. The man had probably seemed like an absolute savior to them. "That sounds too good to be true!" He exclaimed, voice a calculated balance of joy and eagerness. "Just wait until I tell Nat- she'll be so excited!"

The other man smiled and grabbed a card. "Here's his number. Just give him a call tomorrow and tell him that you know us."

Clint accepted the business card gratefully, his trained eyes taking in all the details it could offer in nothing more than a second-long glance. Plain white, information written by hand, a man's handwriting, black ballpoint pen, left-handed writer, minimal information provided besides first initial, last name, and daytime phone number. "Thanks, man. I- we- seriously owe you one."

"Anytime." Jesse said before his wife called him into the lounge. "We've been summoned."

Clint chuckled. "That we have- we'd better hurry before they start plotting our downfall."

Jesse nodded, already walking out of the room.

"Clint, we're waiting!" Nat's voice came, _way_ too flirtatious for his liking.

"Coming, Dearest."

* * *

Natasha finished her strawberry as the big hand on the clock signalled it was 11am- the time she and Clint had decided would be the best time to call the 'miracle worker' that Jesse had referred them to. Without waiting for Clint to return to the kitchen, she dialed the number, already tapping her fingers impatiently when it got to the third ring.

Someone finally answered. "Hello?"

"Good morning- is this Mr. Ventura? My friend Mr. Rothman told me that you helped him and his wife adopt a child a few years ago?" Natasha asked politely.

The man grunted gruffly. "Sure did. What's it to ya?"

If Natasha had actually, genuinely _wanted_ to adopt a child, she'd have hung up the phone right then- she didn't like his attitude. "He just thought you might be able to help me and my husband with an adoption of our own." She told him, quickening her tone slightly as to appear as though she didn't want to bother the man.

The change in his voice was almost instantaneous, suddenly smoother and more charming. "Did he? Well, I'm flattered that he holds me in such high regard. Yes, I think I could help you complete your family. Did you want to meet and discuss?"

"That would be wonderful! Thank you so much!" Natasha replied with fake relief and excitement.

"Anything to help a couple in need. Where would you like to meet?" He shmoozed.

"Well, my husband and I just moved to Ohio, and we're willing to travel up to a few hours out to meet with you." Natasha replied. "Where would be most convenient for you?"

He hummed in thought. "Why don't we go with this little diner I know in Toledo? It's called Deana's. Bring all pertinent documents and information with you." He instructed; although, since he worked illegally, it was highly more likely that he was only asking for the documents to seem more credible, and that he didn't need any of the detailed information at all.

Natasha paused for a second. "That is fine with us. Would sometime this week be too early for us to meet?"

"Oh, not at all. Let's say… Tuesday." He answered smoothly. "Does that work, Mrs. -?"

"Cole." She helpfully provided.

"Mrs. Cole?" The man finished his sentence.

Natasha flicked through some random paper. "Yep! Would Tuesday afternoon be possible?" Making it seem as though they had something planned in the morning.

A rustling of papers on his end. "Um… yes, that works perfectly. Two o'clock?"

"That's perfect! We'll see you at Deana's, at two o'clock this Tuesday." Natasha confirmed before adding an enthusiastic, "Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome." He said before hanging up.

After Natasha had put her phone down, Clint poked his head in. "How'd it go?"

She smiled at him. "We've got the meeting this Tuesday."

Clint pouted. "Does that mean I have to cancel my zumba class?"

Natasha rolled her eyes and threw her phone at him. "Idiot." She muttered playfully, stalking off.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **I would love a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

 **Howdy! Huge thank you to the amazing two individuals who took the time to review the last chapter: Junipa Ivanova and Princess2016. Thank you!**

 **And shout out to my amazing beta and co-writer: ThisVioletofMine!**

 **And before any of you ask- they are just friends!**

* * *

Clint finished brushing his teeth before making weird faces in the mirror to make sure he didn't have anything stuck between them that could serve to embarrass him later. Satisfied with his dental hygiene, he strolled out of the bathroom where Natasha was in the process of getting dressed. Speaking of which, he needed to pick out his outfit for the meeting as well. As he passed by her to get to the dresser, he said idly, "Please don't wear that bra with that shirt." He gestured to the shirt she'd chosen, which was laying on the bedspread. "If you lean forward too much, _bam_ , that bright pink's gonna really catch his attention."

Natasha glared at him. "I thought we _wanted_ to make an impression." She pointed out, but went into the walk-in closet anyway.

He shrugged. "Yeah, but not _that_ kind of an impression. You'll come off as too desperate." He was honestly just glad she hadn't opted to wear a thong for maximum effect. "What do you think of these pants? Too nerdy?" He held up a pair of khaki dress pants.

She walked back out in a less flashy black bra and pulled a disgusted face. "You are _not_ wearing them." She stated clearly.

Clint frowned. "Why not? I mean, I could go with jeans, but then I'd feel too… I dunno, trashy. My only pair of jeans is full of holes." He argued.

"Did you even _look_ in the closet? There's a bunch of fancy jeans in your size. Just wear one of the black pairs." Natasha said, dismissing his concerns about what to wear.

"Oh." Clint wandered into the closet, passing Natasha on the way, and found that yes, the closet was stocked full of clothing his size, including aforementioned jeans. He slid on a pair of black jeans before pulling on a simple blue shirt.

Natasha was mostly dressed when he walked back out. "I went over some sample questions earlier- anything you think we'll need to discuss about the adoption beforehand?"

"Maybe… age preferences?" Clint asked, then perked up a little. "We could use that to figure out what the age range of his targeted kidnap victims is."

"Alright. Cooper's age?" Natasha suggested with a shrug.

"Maybe between his and Lila's." Clint said. "Your ass looks great in those jeans." He complimented when she'd turned away to look in the mirror at her makeup.

Natasha instantly threw a glare at him over his shoulder. "If you suggest I change because it's the 'wrong impression' again, I will _not_ be happy."

Clint smirked. "What, can't a man compliment his wife's ass when it looks nice?"

She slapped her own ass before picking up her phone and handbag. "You ready to go? We don't want to be late; in fact, we want to be really early to show we're eager and then try to 'act cool'."

He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and slipped it into his pocket. "Ready to go buy a child." He said with a sigh.

"Yeah, it'll be fun." Natasha muttered. She slapped his ass as she passed him, sending him a smirk.

Clint made an offended sound. "Stop objectifying me, Natasha!"

"Don't pretend like you don't like it, Clint."

He rolled his eyes, following behind her. "I'm more than just a pretty ass, you know."

* * *

Clint accelerated the car slightly in order to pass a dumpy old pickup going ten under the speed limit, groaning in frustration when the driver- a fat man in overalls with some unfortunate hair- decided now was the perfect time to get up to the correct speed, blocking Clint out of the lane. "Dude, seriously?" Clint muttered frustratedly under his breath, craning his head awkwardly to see past Natasha and out her window. "You choose to do that _now?_ " He upped the speed even more and passed the pickup before successfully switching back into the right lane, feeling a small sense of glorious victory over his douchey opponent.

Natasha glanced back and then frowned, picking up her gun and leaning out of the window, pointing it at the pickup truck. "DON'T FLIP OFF MY HUSBAND!" The pickup skidded to a stop, getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as Clint maintained his speed. Natasha slipped back into her seat and fastened her seatbelt.

"You're my hero." Clint declared in a falsetto, batting his eyelashes at her. "Nobody's ever stood up for me like that before." He pretended to wipe at tears in his eyes. "I'm so… so touched, Natasha."

"Shut up, you wussy." She muttered before changing the radio station for the eighth time in the last half an hour.

Clint wanted to retort, but before he could his phone started ringing. Recognising the tone as Laura's, he put it on speakerphone and said, "Hello?"

" _Clint, Lila's got appendicitis."_ Clint almost froze at that, but managed to maintain his composure enough to keep driving.

"What?" He exclaimed.

Laura was quick to reassure. " _She's going into surgery now, and the doctors say she'll most likely make a full recovery after, but I just thought you should know about it."_ She explained. " _Clint… she kept asking for you. She wants you, and we need you to be here."_ It pulled at Clint's heartstrings to hear her sad voice, and to hear that his little daughter had been in pain and calling for him, when he wasn't there to come to her…

"Laura, I'm… I'm sorry, I… I can't. We've reached a critical stage of the mission, and I can't back out now." He said, using all of his self control to keep the car going toward Toledo. "I want to be there, I really do, but…"

" _No, of course not."_ Laura said, a biting quality entering her voice. " _Your child is in surgery, leaving your wife to watch after a distraught little boy alone, in the waiting room. What need is there to actually be_ present _?"_

"Laura-"

" _I'll let you know how the surgery went later."_ And Laura ended the call.

After a few seconds, Natasha looked at him. "I'm sure we could come up with a reason why you couldn't make the meeting." She suggested.

It was tempting- like, half of his body was itching to slam on the brakes and turn around. But he couldn't. "It could compromise the mission. There are lots of other kids at stake right now that we need to help." He said this as much to convince himself as her.

She nodded, changing the radio station. "Lila will be fine, but these children might not be. You're making the right decision remaining here."

Clint let out a bone-deep sigh of weariness. "Let's hope so."

* * *

Natasha turned to Clint before he opened the door and straightened his collar. "I'm sure these guys can help us to adopt, just like they helped the Rothmans." She told him with a hopeful expression plastered on her face. She gave him a wider smile, one which he returned, before they both simultaneously slid out of the car. She stepped away from the car and waited for Clint to join her before they walked into the cafe.

Taking their time to look around, they found there were a potential three individuals who they could be meeting. She tapped Clint's arm before pointing to an empty booth. "I think we're a bit early- want to eat something while we wait?" She said sheepishly.

Clint checked his watch. "Alright, sure." He agreed, leading the way to the booth and allowing her to sit first before taking a seat opposite her. "I'm totally in the mood for Deana's World-Famous Pulled Pork." He said, gesturing to the advertised meal on one of the paper placemats.

Natasha picked up the menu and forced herself to appear indecisive. "I'm not sure... maybe just…" she hummed in thought for a moment. "Waffles."

Clint nodded. "Awesome… Now if we could just have a waitress frolick on by…"

As if on cue, a waitress approached them. "Mornin'! What can I get for ya?"

Clint pretended to peruse the menu, even though he'd just said what he wanted, before offering the young woman a smile. "I'd like the World-Famous Pulled Pork, please." The waitress eyed him strangely before scribbling down his order and gesturing to Natasha.

"Alright, and what'd you like, sugar?"

"Waffles, extra syrup, please." Natasha replied with a smile as she handed the waitress her menu. "And a strawberry milkshake."

Clint perked up. "Oh! I'll have a chocolate milkshake, please!"

"Coming up," The waitress said, scribbling their orders down before moseying off.

Clint returned his attention to Natasha. "Any sign of Ventura?" He asked quietly, eyes darting around the restaurant.

Natasha casually looked around. "Possibly." She said, indicating two individuals, having already ruled one of the previous suspected culprits.

"No, that guy's right-handed." Clint muttered, continuing to scan their fellow patrons for their target. "What about him? He look like his voice would match what you heard?" He gestured to a man sitting a few tables away, reading a newspaper.

She hummed in thought as a light caught her eyes. She kicked him under the table. "Pulling up now."

Clint turned his head subtly to gaze out the window at the sedan that had just pulled into a parking space nearby. A burly man stepped out of the car, straightened his dark suit, and made his way inside. "I see him. Wave him over."

"Mr. Ventura?" Natasha asked, holding her hand up. He nodded, and Nat stood up and slipped into the seat beside Clint, literally bumping him out of the way. "It's very nice to meet you! I'm Natasha Cole, and this is my husband, Clint."

Ventura put on a charming smile and extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." He shmoozed. "So, did you bring the paperwork?"

"Right here." Clint supplied, patting his briefcase full of fake documents.

"Good. But before we get down to business, let's get to know each other first." Ventura said. "How many failed adoption attempts do you have?"

Natasha pulled a diary from her handbag. "Three, officially. But we've reached out and been turned down by other agencies." She admitted, looking down sadly.

The man frowned sympathetically, every reaction seemingly natural to him after years of manipulating others in his 'business'. "No hopefuls should ever have to go through that. Especially when they clearly only have the best intentions, like you two."

Clint sighed. "I know, right? One incident on her record and suddenly we're the least desirable adoptive parents ever."

"Do you think you would be able to help us?" Natasha questioned hopefully, looking back up at the man.

Ventura sighed and leaned back. "That depends on a few factors. First off, do you have the money to care for a kid?" The glint in his eyes spoke volumes about how much the money really meant to him.

"Oh, sure we do! Both of us have really good jobs- mine's more flexible now that I've been promoted. We both have savings, and are more than capable of providing for a child." Clint said.

"Good, good." Ventura drawled, clearly having been hoping for specific numbers. "And I do need to let you know that, after the adoption goes through, I will be charging a fee- we'll get into the specifics of it later. That okay?"

Natasha frowned. "What kind of fee? What for?" She questioned, confused.

"Well, I _am_ giving you the use of my services to help complete your family. It means twice as much paperwork for me as you have ever had to fill out, it means lots of work and hundreds of phone calls, then I have to track down the perfect kid and deal with their pissy social worker…" Ventura explained, sounding as though he'd given this speech millions of times before. "Would paying a fee be an issue?" He asked, slightly suspicious.

Clint was quick to jump in. "No, of course not! Sorry, she's just worried that it might take a chunk out of our savings, is all. We'd be glad to pay."

"How much does it usually cost?" Natasha questioned. "Of course we're willing to be practically anything. But, if it's more than expected, I'd rather pick up extra shifts now to ensure we can provide for our child and pay you, then have to pick up extra shifts after the child arrives." She explained.

Ventura smiled somewhat kindly. "Nothing too crazy, really. Five thousand. I will need the money before the child arrives, but after that one small payment, you're done. No strings attached." He said as if this was the greatest bargain on the planet.

"Five _grand_?" Natasha questioned before pausing. "That's more than I expected. It almost sounds like we're buying a child. Is it that much because you are a private organisation?"

The man slicked back his hair and nodded. "Precisely. Private organisations don't get nearly as much government support, so our work is ten times harder. I just want my men to get paid fairly for the hard work they do."

Natasha looked at Clint, them both exchanging the odd head tilt and nod before turning back to him. "That's fine- five grand is manageable." She said, a smile growing on her lips. "And are you sure we're able to adopt with my… misdemeanor?"

Ventura smiled, showing off his crooked teeth. "Absolutely."

* * *

Clint flipped through the pieces of paper in the folder as Natasha drove them home. It was their one souvenir from their appointment with Mr. Ventura, and he'd instructed them to read its contents very carefully. They'd already signed a contract with him after another hour of discussion, and were now at the phase where they needed to start looking at children to adopt- of course, they could only choose from the children he supplied, hence the folder full of files about various children he'd probably kidnapped or was planning to have kidnapped.

"This man is sick. Seriously, this kid is two years old! Her parents must be worried sick." Clint said, outraged, as he read through one of the files.

Natasha stared at him, slightly stunned. "Two? How old are the others?" She asked, peering over his shoulder.

He paged through several more single-page information sheets, quickly skimming through them. "The oldest I've seen so far is fourteen. The youngest is four months." He honestly was getting sick to his stomach. How could someone steal a months-old infant away from her parents when she was just beginning her life with them? The first months of his children's lives were some of the most important, as that was the period in which parents and baby really got to bond and get to know each other. And this man had no qualms with stealing that away.

Her hand came to rest of his shoulder, squeezing it. "It's a good thing we are taking him down then." She paused. "Have you chosen what kid you want?"

That just sounded so _wrong_. These were other people's children, and he had no right to go picking and choosing amongst them. At the same time, though, it would be relieving that child of the fear they were no doubt living in as they stayed wherever their kidnappers kept them until they were 'adopted'. But even in those terms, it was impossible to choose. He wanted to choose them all, save them all. But that would be suspicious and unrealistic at best. Finally Clint snapped the file shut and set it on the console between them. "You pick when we get home. I can't."

Natasha nodded, but didn't reply.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note:**

 **Hello, here is the next chapter!**

* * *

Natasha idly flicked through the selection of children they were given. After much deliberation, she thought it would be best to either choose a child too young to really comprehend what was going on or a child who was old enough that, when it was explained, they would understand. She wasn't sure about the former option- the younger the child, the more care they needed, and she didn't want them to get close and then be moved again.

She sighed; displacing children was always hard- however, after talking to Agent Coulson, it appeared that they would need to go through the short 'trial' period with one of the children before signing off- including being visited by a 'social worker'. She didn't see what the point was, though- surely after they got their money, they'd just leave? Why would they bother hanging around longer? They obviously didn't care about children, otherwise they wouldn't kidnap them.

Natasha found herself flicking back to a little boy, age five, tanned skin, dark brown hair and honey brown eyes. There was something about him that made her want to scoop him up and hold him. Logically, she put it down to the contrast between his bright smile and his sad eyes.

"Any luck?" Clint asked solemnly as he trumped into the room. He still hadn't gone to see his wife and children, and Lila was still in the hospital- she was alright, thankfully, but had to stay there for a little longer because she was refusing to eat.

She looked up at him, wanting to tell him to just leave, to go and see his children, but she knew that he wouldn't. They were in too deep now. "How about Julio?" She suggested, turning the folder around to show him the boy she just couldn't stop looking at.

Clint stepped over to her and took the folder from her. "Julio Smith, five years old- he'll be six this July." He looked at her, "hence his name, I suppose." And then back to the folder. "Energetic, just looking for a loving and supportive family."

Natasha licked her lips, waiting impatiently for his answer- she knew this wasn't a real adoption, but she felt like this was a big decision. "Well?"

"Yeah, he's perfect. I'll call and set up a meet." Clint replied with a smile- this was one step closer to finishing the mission.

* * *

"Yeah, we saw his picture and something just… sparked." Clint said with as much enthusiasm as he could, reclined in the office chair and idly flipping through the folder of profiles. "He fits our age preferences, he seems like a beautiful little boy…"

"I'm glad to hear it- Julio comes from a neglectful background, so parents such as yourselves would be his saving grace." Ventura drawled through the phone, sounding utterly pleased. "So you've looked through all the others already? We always advise parents to consider every child before choosing one to adopt to avoid hasty decisions."

"Oh yeah- we barely slept, we couldn't put the folder down." Clint said, lazily flipping a page. He'd basically memorised every child in there, so he only had to look at the picture to know who it was and what their supposed background was. Maye Lillian, two years old. Red hair, face plastered with freckles, dimpled cheeks, green eyes. A good-looking kid who was sure to be snatched up within a month by unsuspecting 'adoptive' parents.

Ventura's voice had taken on a lightly suspicious tone. "And you definitely want Julio?" He clarified. "The thing is… most adoptive parents look for children who look like themselves- skin colour, eye colour, stuff like that. Most of our adoptive parents are caucasian, so that's why it's taken Julio so long to be considered. That you and your wife are interested… it's out of the ordinary, to say the least."

Clint raised a brow. "Is it a problem?" He asked, allowing a slightly challenging tone into his voice. Ventura was quick to reassure.

"Oh, it's the opposite! We're thrilled that he'll get a home." _Yeah, that's what I thought_. Clint returned his attention to the file, now open to a page further back, as he'd flipped past a few while speaking. Julia Carlson, one year old. Pale skin, freckled face, ginger hair… dimpled cheeks… green eyes. Frowning and tuning out Ventura's long-winded explanation of the importance of adopting children for features besides their appearances, Clint closely studied the picture, then flipped back to Maye's. The two girls were practically identical, and to him, there was no way they even unrelated children, what really made up his mind were the subtle similarities: jaw shape, the presence of a widow's peak, eye shape, nose size, earlobes, lip shapes, and general facial proportions. They definitely shared at least one parent. Clint's blood ran cold and he quickly interrupted Ventura. "Uh-huh, true. Listen, I gotta go- there's a commotion outside. I'll call you back." Then he hung up. "Nat!" He called.

Natasha wandered into the room, slightly alert, but it was obvious she didn't rush. "What's going on? What did Ventura say?"

Clint sprung from his chair and showed her the files. "These two girls… they're related. Their files say they don't have any living family members, but these two share even the most minute genetic traits." He pointed out several. "I'd be willing to bet anything that most of these children share parents with at least one other child."

Natasha took the folder from him and examined it. "So what? They kidnapped two sisters. Why's that got you freaked?" She questioned before reminding him, "They'll be returned to their mother or father or both soon- we have S.H.I.E.L.D looking into every single child; they've already matched a quarter of them and it's been one night."

Still, Clint couldn't shake the feeling that there was something even more wrong lying under the surface. "I dunno… there's something off about this. Let's look into these two girls specifically." He advised, determined. "There's something deeper going on here- I can feel it."

"Clint. We don't have time for that. I mean, if you're _that_ concerned, why don't we ask to adopt both of them? They look like me, anyway- it would make sense." Natasha advised.

He supposed that would work. "Still, I'm sending Coulson their files so he can look into it. This doesn't sit right with me. Not once during the mission briefings did they ever mention more than one child being taken at once- certainly not siblings, either. That would be important information to help us analyse the kidnapper's MO, so it's illogical and just plain irresponsible to leave something like that out."

She nodded. "Alright. But tell me which kids we're getting. I don't want to get S.H.I.E.L.D to get us a bunch of furniture and clothes for a five-year-old boy and then get two girls- that wouldn't work." She advised.

"Okay." Clint agreed, already heading to get the laptop.

* * *

Natasha double checked that her vest top was tucked in under her shirt- she was advised that it would be more professional and practical. She glanced at Clint as they pulled up, still slightly annoyed that in the end, he had asked for them to see a total of _nine_ children. It appeared that he couldn't get the idea of siblings out of his mind and any that _could_ be related to another, he wanted to see. This included a three-week-old baby- which they were definitely not adopting. "I still think it's suspicious that you asked to see children who you thought were siblings- if they're related, you could spook the kidnappers."

"It's fine. I told them we are considering more than one child, as we want to have a family and don't want to go through the process again. I also mentioned that I have an inheritance coming in in a month and would definitely be able to afford it."

She frowned; she hated this idea even more. Why couldn't they just adopt a child now and get this mission over and done with? "Fine. But, please, no babies… I'll break them."

He rolled his eyes. "You've got ninja reflexes and can catch a vial of deadly chemicals in a split second without dropping or breaking it in any way. I think a baby would be easy." He teased. "But yeah, I'd rather not spend valuable mission time changing diapers and doing late-night feedings."

"Great." She barely waited for him to pull up into the parking space before unstrapping her seatbelt and stepping out of the car, looking around. They had to drive four hours to get to this location, this 'orphanage', and she just hoped they were able to get as much information as possible- as, of course, the sooner S.H.I.E.L.D could go in, the better for them. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He replied, hooking his arm through hers. "Come, darling, let's meet the children."

They walked in together and were greeted by a middle-aged woman whose hair was prematurely greying. "You must be the Coles. Welcome. I'm Mrs. Vi. The children are just eating lunch. We have put them in groups for you to meet them to avoid overwhelming you or the children." She informed them. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the nursery, where the younger two you asked about should be waking up from a nap. Afterwards, we'll move on to the older children."

"Thank you." Clint said graciously, sharing a look with Natasha before they began following the woman.

The building was spacious enough, though it had very few windows and it could certainly use a good mopping. It reminded Natasha of her own childhood- hopefully this place didn't have a _Basement_ like hers did. She almost paused and leant into Clint. "We need to check for a basement," she whispered. They walked into a nursery following Mrs. Vi and saw five cribs against the walls. There was a good enough space in between them, as it was a big room, and along the far wall was a changing table. But apart from that, it was pretty bare. Natasha stepped away from Clint and looked in on one of the babies. The baby looked up at her and kicked its legs, holding its arms up to be held.

"You can pick him up, if you want. That's Joe- he's nearly one."

Natasha glanced at her before reaching down and picking up the infant- she had to seem interested in kids, after all. "Hello, Joey."

Clint was peering into the crib beside Joey's. "Hey, little- guy?" He asked. Mrs. Vi chuckled.

"That's Eve, one of the girls you requested to see."

"Ah, okay. Hey, little lady." He amended, scooping the child up. It was no wonder he was confused- her hair was short, as she was only a few weeks old, and her clothes were a neutral white onesie. In fact, all of the infants were dressed similarly. Even the bedsheets were white, no blues or pinks anywhere to be seen. "You're a cutie!" He cooed to the child.

"And we have little Julia, who is almost ready to leave the nursery." Mrs. Vi spoke, picking up another one-year-old. "Say hello."

"'Eeyyy." The one-year-old practically sang- she definitely wasn't a shy baby.

Natasha placed Joe back into his crib and approached them. "She looks so much like me- now I know why Clint was smitten with her. Can I?" She asked, holding out her arms and taking the child. She smiled at her, receiving a giant gummy grin in return, and noticed that there was a bruise on her shoulder, just visible from under the onesie. She instinctively held the child closer. "She's a beauty."

Clint clearly had noticed the bruise as well, because his eyes held the slightest anger, though he covered it well. "What's her backstory? The files weren't too specific." He asked curiously.

"Oh, her mother died during labour and her father didn't want her- signed away all of his rights and put her up for adoption before she was even a day old. Just a tragedy." Mrs. Vi said with fake sadness. Most people wouldn't see how fake it was, but Natasha clearly did and it actually took some restraint to not throw that woman out of the window- the tiny window, but Nat would still squeeze her through it.

"Poor thing." Clint said sympathetically. "She just needs someone to love her, huh?" He gently tickled under Eve's chin.

Natasha tickled Julia's side, making her giggle. "That's awful! I could never imagine signing away my rights to a child- that just seems wrong."

Mrs. Vi nodded in agreement. "That doesn't seem right at all. Any more questions about Julia?"

"No, I think that's it." Clint said slowly, peering around the room at the other cribs. "We've got lots more children to see, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, seven more. Let me go check if they're ready. I'll leave you alone to bond with the little ones." She said, walking out of the room.

"If you could talk, I'd interrogate you."

"Eeey!" Julia exclaimed with joy.

Natasha quickly stepped out of the room and looked around. "Take Julia- I'm going to have a look around. If Mrs. Vi comes back, I'm searching for the bathroom." She said, practically thrusting the one-year-old into his arms, even though he was still holding Eve.

"Woah!" He exclaimed, adjusting the children to get a better grip on them. "Alright. Be careful."

She gave him one swift nod before stepping cautiously down the corridor, poking her head into the rooms as she passed them. The majority of them had two sets of bunkbeds squeezed into each room, where there was only a foot of space between them for the occupants to get to the door. The larger rooms seemed to have smaller-sized beds and a lot more of them- that showed her that they dealt with younger children more. She pushed one door open and her eyes almost bulged out of her head as she saw ten small hospital cribs, mostly full of babies, some looking days old, the oldest looking to be a few months old. There was no way they could have kidnapped all of those children. She snapped a few pictures and sent them to S.H.I.E.L.D. before going back and taking pictures of the other rooms before being forced to go back to Clint as she heard footsteps. "I think we should call in S.H.I.E.L.D." She said quickly and quietly, taking Eve out of his hands.

Mrs. Vi walked back in. "Yes, we have the older two children ready for you- they're really excited to see you. They don't get that much interest, being so old. A warning, though: one of them, Molly, has made up a little story about her parents- it's a defense mechanism. But she's really a sweet girl."

Natasha nodded and gently laid Eve down in her bed. She racked her brain. trying to remember Molly, and realised that they had matched her to a 'Holly Monroe' who went missing eleven months ago- she guessed they couldn't get rid of a girl who insisted she had a family. Natasha was surprised that they kept the child for that long- surely the longer they kept her, the more tricky it was? But, then again, the longer they had her, the more different the child would look.

Clint was looking decidedly pale but he followed along, despite his clear desires to either get out of there or break the act. "She does sound like a sweet girl- what happened to her family to make her behave the way you said?"

"I don't know. She's been in orphanages and foster homes for a few years now. She might have just gotten attached to a foster family or one of her old friends at school said she could live with them." Mrs. Vi shrugged it off. "She just needs some stability in her life; a few adoptions fell through."

"Poor thing." Clint said, sounding horrified. "She doesn't deserve to be treated like that! None of these kids do." He lamented.

"None of them do, but we do our best here, trying to help them all find their forever families." She faked, walking down the stairs.

Natasha slowed and fell behind them as she read a text. " _On way to infiltrate. ETA, thirty minutes. Remain there and on breach, secure as many children as you can."_ She quickly replied before showing the message discretely to Clint.

He nodded subtly and returned his attention to the woman before them. "How many kids come through here? How many are adopted?" He questioned.

"We don't hold more than forty children at once- we like to make sure we can take care of them. The younger ones seem to get adopted more quickly, so, a few a month." Mrs. Vi replied.

Natasha nodded. "Forty? That's a lot of children." She commented, knowing that there were enough beds for at least eighty children, and this was only one floor.

Mrs. Vi nodded. "Yes, we have eight lovely individuals working, always having four on hand to assist."

Clint whistled appreciatively. "Man, you must be running a tight ship. It would be hard caring for and controlling forty kids with only eight people."

"Oh, yes, we do. But we always have volunteers helping out." She paused at a door and opened it slowly. "Molly, Oli- these are Clint and Natasha. They're going to talk to you for a little bit, so be on your best behaviour."

Natasha and Clint looked at each other- they were isolated here and would need to be in a more open or central location for when S.H.I.E.L.D. got there. If they timed it where they were on the move between children, then they'd be in the best position. That is how they ended up talking to the shy and withdrawn six-year-old and the determined-that-her-family-was-looking-for-her seven-year-old for nearly twenty minutes before she received the final descent text. "Thank you for talking to us." Natasha said, standing up with Clint as Mrs. Vi gladly led them from the room.

"Oh, it's no pro-" the woman was cut off when a loud commotion sounded downstairs. She paled almost instantly and ran off without saying another word to them. Clearly the woman knew what she was doing was illegal, so they'd have to ensure she was tracked down and put in prison as well.

Clint looked to Natasha. "I think that's the signal for us to start getting these kids out of here."

She nodded. "You get the young children we've already seen and I'll go keep an eye on the babies in the room I discovered."

Without waiting for his response, she turned away from him and marched down the corridor. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a woman- who obviously was _not_ S.H.I.E.L.D- walk into the second nursery. Natasha practically glided into the room, her eyes taking a quick snapshot of everything, and dragged the woman out of the room by her neck. It wasn't even worth her pulling out her best moves, as all it took was a few kicks for the woman to be lying unconscious on the floor. Seriously, there were some women out there who gave other women a bad name.

Natasha walked into the room with the surprisingly quiet eight babies and realised that there was no way she could get all of them out at the same time- not safely, anyway.

She pulled out her gun and aimed it at the door just in case anybody tried to take or harm them. If she couldn't get the kids out, she'd protect them.

Eventually, help from S.H.I.E.L.D. came and all of the children were moved to a protected base- Natasha decided to stay with a selection of the children as they organised a few things.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **I didn't receive any reviews on the last chapters, so I would be delighted if you could drop me one so I know if you are liking the direction!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

 **Massive hugs and lots of cookies to all of my amazing reviewers on the previous chapter! You've really given me the motivation I needed to continue this! Sorry if I haven't responded directly to you, I need to get better at that! Anyway, thank you to -** **ELOSHAZZY; bookwriter123456; Guest; Aquamarine6996; Mero; s.**

 **I want to also thank ThisVioletofMine and Andromeda2000 who both helped me with this chapter! :D**

* * *

Clint was pacing agitatedly outside of an out-of-the-way medical wing, the curtains of which had been drawn closed behind the glass walls, blocking any view of what could be inside. As soon as he saw Natasha approaching, as he'd been waiting for, he quickly met her halfway. "Nat, this was _way_ deeper and way darker than we thought." He said quietly, wishing his hands would stop clenching and shaking simultaneously.

"What's going on?" She asked instantly, glancing around for clues.

Clint paused for a second before putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her over to the doors of the med bay, carefully opening one of them slightly enough for her to peer in. "They didn't just take children- they took women, too." Only a few beds were visible from their vantage point, and the lights inside were dim. The closest bed to the door was occupied by a very haunted-looking woman in her twenties. She was awake, but she kept staring at the ceiling.

"So?" She questioned unsympathetically. "They kidnap all ages. Were they going to sell them, too?"

Clint was sickened, though not at her, per se. He slowly pulled the door closed. "No. They… were using them like breeder dogs." He said almost shakily, his mind tormenting him with images of his beloved Laura forced into the horrors these women were surrounded by. "They were artificially inseminated, forced to carry children, never allowed to leave their beds, it looks like."

Natasha frowned. "You're right. That does suck." She commented, stepping away from the door. "How's Lila? Have you gone to see her yet?"

He sighed, feeling thirty years older than he was. "No. I've been so busy trying to gather information about this… how could they have done this with these girls with no one noticing anything? S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't even aware of it."

"Clint." Natasha said, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face her. "You have to let it go- don't let this get to you. You _need_ to go home and see your wife and kids." She urged. She clearly knew his home life was pretty tense right now, with him not going to the hospital when Lila had her appendectomy, and she was right- he needed to show up.

Clint paced once more. "I know, I know. But, Nat- we owe it to these women to see that they get at least some sliver of their old lives back. Doctors are estimating that most of them were taken in their late teens. One of them," he cut off before starting again, "she was matched to one of the babies, but she wouldn't stop screaming until he was out of sight."

Natasha leveled out her look at him, appearing to be unaffected by everything that was going on. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing everything they can to find out who _everybody_ is. There is nothing more you can do here, but, if you wanted, I'll hang around and update you."

He could have kissed her right then, he was so grateful. Instead he settled for smiling as much as his tired muscles would allow. "Thank you, Natasha." He said genuinely. "Call me if anything happens, alright? Oh, and they're still working on positively identifying the women, so text me the results."

"Of course. Text me about Lila, too." She replied, turning him around and pushing him towards the exit.

"Will do." He assured, pulling on his jacket and leaving.

* * *

It took Clint forever to finally be allowed to know in what room Lila was staying. First, the receptionist lady was highly skeptical of his claims of being the girl's father. Then, when she called her hospital room to request Laura come to the desk to solidify his identity, the phone glitched out on her and she ended up spending five minutes apologising to some random doctor two floors down for interrupting a test he'd been running on a very flighty child, who had gone into utter panic when the phone rang. Finally, exasperated, he'd planted a small bug on the computer when she wasn't looking and gleaned the desired information that way.

When Clint first peeked his head through the door, he smiled when he found Lila, peacefully sleeping on the hospital bed with Laura passed out on the sofa off to the side. Cooper was the only one awake, and he jumped up excitedly when Clint quietly cleared his throat.

"Dad!" The boy launched himself into his father's arms, making Clint chuckle. He hugged him tightly, relishing the contact he'd been missing for months.

"Hey, kiddo." He greeted as Lila's eyelids fluttered. She gasped when she saw Clint, and he quickly made his way to her before she ended up yanking out her IV in an attempt to run to him. He and Cooper sat on the edge of her bed, and he used his free hand to pull her to his side, mindful of the equipment attached to her small body. "Hey, Lila! I heard you had surgery- did they let you keep your appendix as a souvenir?" He asked jokingly. She pulled a face.

"Daddy! Gross!"

"Sorry." He pulled them both a little closer, giving them each a kiss on the top of their heads. "I missed you two so much. Did you behave yourselves?"

Cooper smiled and nodded proudly. "Uh-huh! We didn't be bad or nothing!" He reported.

"Except for when you insisted on tracking mud through the house after I expressly told you _not_ to." Laura suddenly piped up from the couch, stretching. Cooper giggled in slight embarrassment.

"Sorry…"

Laura sat on the opposite side of the bed, gently running her fingers through Lila's hair and discreetly sending Clint a look that said they would be having a serious talk later, once the children were out of earshot. He nodded understandingly, hoping she wouldn't stay mad at him for very long- an angry Laura was an unpleasant Laura. "The doctors just told us a while ago that she can be discharged tomorrow morning." She informed him.

"That's great!" Clint said as cheerfully as he could, thanking his lucky stars that the images of those imprisoned women were being kept at bay with his happiness at holding his family taking over a majority of his thoughts. Still, he kept part of his attention constantly on the phone in his pocket, waiting for any updates from Natasha. "What say you, Liles, that when we get home, I make my world-famous pancakes?"

Lila smiled excitedly. "I can't wait!" She buried her face in his shirt. "I'm super happy you're back, Daddy."

He squeezed his children just a little tighter. "I'm super happy to be back."

* * *

Clint was ecstatic that his daughter would be allowed to go home so soon after he got back- he hated seeing her in the hospital, just as any other parent would. He was pleased when Lila fell asleep; she needed her rest, and it had already been discussed that Laura would go home with Cooper, so they both could rest and get cleaned up - and clean up the house - for tomorrow. He was happy to stay with his daughter, and gave his son extra hugs. However, instead of just leaving, Laura asked to talk to him in private first - and by her expression, it wasn't for an 'I missed you' kiss.

They paused just a few metres from Lila's hospital room, far enough that they wouldn't be overheard, even if the children were at the door, but close enough to keep an eye on their kids and ensuring nobody could go into the room without them being able to intervene first.

Clint and Laura faced each other, and her arm stroked his cheek. "I'm glad you're alright." She said softly, and before he was able to place his hand over hers, she retracted it. "But your daughter was _not_ alright. Family first, that is _always_ what you say - and yet, when your family- your _daughter-_ needs you, you are nowhere to be seen."

And that was when he knew that he was in the doghouse. "Laura, I was in the middle of a mission, I couldn't just-"

"I am not going to accept that crap right now, Clint." Laura told him, her voice low and amazingly soft - and that was worrying. She was legitimately annoyed with him, and the worst thing about it was that he understood why. He had always said he'd come straight home if anything bad were to happen, even if it were Laura going to the hospital for cutting her finger. In the past, he had come home instantly upon any of the children, or even Laura, getting a bad flu. But him not coming home when his daughter was in the _hospital_ , taking _days_ before returning and his calls lacking throughout those days… Yeah, that was shitty of him. He looked down guiltily. "Lila needs you now, and Cooper, too. But… I don't. Not right now."

"Laura, please don't be like that." Clint said quickly, stepping to the side to stop her walking back to the room, his hand coming to rest on her waist. "I'm sorry, I really, really am. I should have come straight back. But… there were children at stake, and I knew you were taking care of ours."

"Cooper shouldn't have had to stay in the hospital because there was nobody to take care of him- Nat was with you, and Bobbi was also on a mission. And Lila shouldn't have had to be here alone when I _did_ take Cooper home to shower, or when we went to go get food. That's not fair to either of them - or me, having to choose between both of them." Laura told him in a hushed tone.

Clint released her; he couldn't respond to that, even if he wanted to. He was pretty sure this might have already transcended most of their fights, and he didn't want to have a huge fight with his wife - but there were bound to be consequences to his previous actions. He took a breath and then followed her back into their daughter's hospital room. Giving his son one more big hug, he watched his wife leave without even saying a proper goodbye to him and then sat at his daughter's side.

* * *

Clint smiled softly as he watched Lila doing cartwheels in the yard - or at least her attempt at them. He looked over at Cooper, who was also doing cartwheels, but landing on two feet at once. It was a sweet sight.

He almost ignored the buzzing in his pocket, but at the last moment he answered it. "Barton."

"Romanoff." Natasha responded and then fell silent.

"Nat, what's going on?" Clint asked; he noticed Laura venturing out into the yard and then felt safe to stop watching the children so he could focus on Natasha for now.

There was a breath through the phone. "You were really concerned about the results of the mission, so I thought I'd give you an update."

Clint usually would have smiled at those words, at Natasha thinking about him and his feelings enough to call him. "Thank you." He said sincerely, and then waited patiently for her to start.

There was a breath, and then she started. "Forty-three children. Eight kidnap victims alive, three pregnant, two recovering from recent births, three others. Another thirty children were discovered at another fake orphanage, run by the same people - we've taken down a good amount of 'bad guys'."

He waited for more information, but none came. "And…?"

"What?"

Clint had to rolls his eyes at that; she was never one to go further than the main points unless prompted, and sometimes prompting her earnt the prompter a few bruises. "How are they all? What's going to happen to them? Have they found all of their parents yet?" He inquired.

There was another breath, and longer silence, and just when he thought she wasn't going to answer, she began speaking - her voice, though, was a lot softer. "Thirteen of the forty-three children had been kidnapped in the last six months, they have identified their parents and are arranging how it would be best to go about returning the children. Twelve of the children are actually orphans, who were transferred over from another home over the course of two years. And the other eighteen… they were born at the orphanage, in the basement."

Clint felt all breath leave him and he moved to be able to subtly watch his children again. He couldn't imagine how he would have felt if anything happened to them, or if they never were able to live as children. Children are not merchandise- they can't be born in a factory and sold to the highest bidder; that was just not right. He knew he had to say something, he knew he was meant to say something, but words just weren't coming out - he had asked for more information, and now wasn't sure if he wanted to know. But it was too late, and he had asked, and he couldn't back down now, even with the anger that was building within him. "Okay," he managed to get out, glancing at his kids one last time before forcing himself to look away - he knew they were safe, but there were children out there who needed his attention. "What's going to happen with the children?" He asked - not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Another pause from Natasha, which he couldn't blame her for this time; he could barely listen to what she was saying, let alone say it.

"The children who were from other orphanages - S.H.I.E.L.D is going to place them in homes; they've been through enough already. There are agents already volunteering." Natasha informed him. "They are running DNA tests on the babies born there, and have matched some with the teenagers we found in the basement." Another pause. "And the dead bodies which were… buried in the backyard."

Clint's eyes widened- buried bodies? How was this the first time he'd heard of them? However, before he could respond, she continued.

"So, either the children will stay with their mothers, or they'll be adopted by other parents - but S.H.I.E.L.D will sort that out, too."

Clint stood there silently, the meaning of those words slowly sinking in. S.H.I.E.L.D. helping to give all of the children a home was noble - agents already volunteering after barely twenty-four hours was amazing. It would change anybody's life dramatically. He felt the corners of his lips tug up - this was definitely a light at the end of the tunnel moment; he was glad that the months undercover with Natasha were paying off, that they were helping forty-three children and women who had been forced into having children. It was a good ending. It almost made up for the stiffness and tension between him and his wife - but there were always consequences of undercover work, and he could only hope this wasn't a permanent consequence. "Maybe you could put your name forward - you were smitten with Julio." He suggested, feeling tension slightly leave his body - although he was still pissed and wanted revenge for what happened to the children and mothers.

"I might do just that." Natasha replied. "I'll call you later, Clint. Good night."

He felt his eyes widen to the size of saucers. "What?" he spluttered out, but it was too late- she had already hung up. He wanted to rush down and tell his wife the revelation about Natasha actually joking about taking on a child - she had always been against it. Harshly so. But he refrained from doing so - there was a lot of making up that he needed to do, and talking about other matters were probably not the best place to start.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello! My apologies that it has been _months_ since I last updated this story - but I knew the end was close and wanted it to be perfect. **

**Quick shout out and thanks to ThisVioletofMine who has been helping me with this whole story.**

 **HUGE shout out to Sancturia who was the mastermind behind this whole chapter and helped me in so many ways to finish this! She is incredible and you all would have been waiting much longer for an update.**

* * *

Natasha took a breath as she walked into the large room, which had all forty-three children in it. They needed help to keep an eye on them as they began sending them off to specific locations - they didn't want any child to get misplaced. Natasha had volunteered to cover Clint, who was caught up with something at home, Nat could tell over the phone that something wasn't right - whatever happened between him and Laura seemed like it would take a while. Natasha couldn't completely understand what had gotten her so worked up-Laura knew Clint's business, and knew the responsibilities he had.

She looked around the room. Some of the children were crying, others were sleeping, but the majority of them were running around. She recognised a half of them from the photographs. With a sigh, and regret for agreeing to this, she walked over to one of the crying little ones. "Hey, what's wrong?" She asked, bending down so she could see his face, not being able to place his face anywhere.

He looked up, sniffling. "I don wike it hewe."

Great. "What about over there?" she questioned, pointing towards the wall.

The boy looked at her with utter confusion before wandering over to the wall and leaning against it, face first. Well… she'd call that a success for now. However, when she approached another, older, child, she didn't manage to get a word out, as she just walked straight to the wall. All Nat could do was watch with confusion as the children would look at her, and then follow suit. She looked around, seeing the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents looking relieved, but surely this wasn't normal?

"How'd you do that? That's amazing!" Fitz said with wonder as he walked over to her, holding a baby - who wasn't of walking age, but she was sure, if it was, it would have walked off too.

"Discipline - this is what they would have been told to do." Natasha replied, it was scary to think how similar these kids seemed to react and were treated. She was waiting for one of them to start attacking, but knew that that wouldn't be happening - this wasn't the Red Room, just a breeding and selling situation. "Who needs to go out?" she asked, seeing one of the quinjets ready.

Fitz held out the innocent child to her, and after a few long moments of her looking at him like he was crazy, she took it. It was only when she was holding the child, that she realised it was little Julia, the one year old girl she had held before rescuing all of the children. "Hey Julia, remember me?" She asked.

Julia perked up at her name, smiling widely at her. "Eeeeeey!"

"Of course you do." She cooed, stroking the little hair she had out of her face. She looked up at Fitz as he returned.

"Five of them are going to Jersey today, including one of the mothers." He informed her and offered to take Julia back.

Natasha held onto the little girl a little more securely. "I've got her." She waited for him to lower his hands before looking over at the list of names. "Just call the children one by one."

Fitz nodded. "Alright." He cleared his throat, looking at the chaos of the room. "Um... Augusta?" Most of the kids fidgeted a bit in their spots, but after a few seconds a little girl or no more than three shyly came forward and tugged on the bottom of Fitz's shirt. Natasha nodded to him as he handed the girl off to a brunette agent to transport onto the Quinjet before exiting the room for an office across the way that housed all of the kids' files. She'd gone through all of it before when she wasn't on shift - Natasha wasn't normally the one to make sure all the i's were dotted and t's crossed on the paperwork after a mission, but somehow she felt she owed it to these kids, to make sure they made it to a safe home after all they'd been through.

Sitting down and adjusting Julia's grip on her so that the girl was sitting on her lap, she pulled Julio's file towards her and began to read it for the eighteenth time. Repetition did not change the results - Julio had been born at the orphanage, and even though his mother had died, he had a grandmother who decided she wanted him. The last connection of her daughter was in this child. The daughter she lost seven years ago.

What she also found out, was that Julio was lactose intolerant - which was why he hadn't been adopted sooner. She was pleased that he was going to be with family, with somebody who would love and care for him. She slipped the papers back inside the folder and looked at the pile of folders of the other children before pulling one of them towards her as well.

Three hours later found Natasha seated in a large chair, with six piles of folders, and then a further seven folders scattered in an organised mess on the table in front of her, wondering why exactly she had allowed herself to be enlisted in helping to home the children but knowing deep inside this was exactly where she wanted to be. Being part of this process was really eye opening.

Turning her attention back to Julia, she was mildly surprised to find her soundlessly asleep in her arms. With only a few moments of thoughts, Natasha stood up, careful not to jostle her, and headed back to where the children were being housed. A make shift nursery had been set up in one of the smaller rooms, and she gently laid Julia down on a makeshift bed which one of the other children had slept in earlier.

Closing the door to the nursery behind her, only Natasha's quick reflexes prevented her from being bowled over by a veritable stampede of children running from one room to the other. In contrast to earlier, they had excited looks on their faces and some were holding teddy bears and other stuffed animals aloft as they ran.

Agent Fitz was running after them, making shooing motions with his hands. "You little monkeys! It's time for bed." He'd nearly gone past her when a little head poked out from the corner behind them.

"Boo!" the small boy shouted before sprinting madly away in the opposite direction. "Can't catch me!"

"No, you don't deserve to be called monkeys!" Fitz shouted after him, face a mottled tomato color. "Monkeys are cute and well-trained, while you're just—"

"Would you like me to catch him?" Natasha asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement at the young scientist's frustration.

"Please catch the little bugger," Fitz exclaimed. "I've got to—" He ran off after the other children again, waving his arms like a mad chicken. "Shoo! Shoo! Off to bed!"

With her long strides, Natasha caught the escapee in no time at all and deposited him in the makeshift dormitory where Fitz had finally gotten them all corralled.

"No, Fitz!" The brunette agent from earlier burst in. "There aren't enough beds!"

"'Course there are, Simmons, we did a head count before we started—"

"But Augustus and June were missing, remember? And Agent Avery just informed me that Julie, Maya, and Chris were jumping on the ones we set up before she could catch them, and three broke. We're off by five beds, Fitz!"

"Yay, not bedtime!" the kids shouted, making a run for it again. Simmons shut the door quickly and Natasha caught one of them as he tried to slip through her legs and into the hallway again.

"I can get you more beds," she told the two other agents as she pushed the child gently in the direction of the group again.

"Can you? Oh thank you," Simmons breathed a sigh of relief. She glared at Fitz. "I told you we couldn't take care of thirty children for a night if they didn't let us bring them to our lab."

Natasha exited the room and stood in the base hallway, thinking for a few moments before heading into one of the storage units - this had been where Clint had gotten temporary portable beds before. She remembered moving them all to a room for when he had to look after Cooper and Lila at the base. A small smile of accomplishment set on her lips when she saw a range of them - and they were all on wheels.

It was a good thing S.H.I.E.L.D was ready for any situation, otherwise, she'd have to steal random agents' beds.

When she wheeled the five beds into the large room which held the children, she froze. It seemed as if chloroform gas had been sent into the room through the air vents the way every single child was suddenly draped across a chair, in one of the beds, or simply curled up on a spare patch of floor. "I'm _tired,_ " one of them whined as she pulled the first bed into the room, thumping his fist on the floor.

"Don't worry, we have you a bed right here," Simmons informed him with a bright smile as she took the bed thankfully.

She nodded in recognition before pushing in two of the beds as Fitz took the other two to a different room. Natasha looked at the children curiously, wondering exactly what happened in the five minutes she was gone but shrugged it off after a second when the children started dozing off - whatever had happened, it worked.

After a few minutes, once all the children were asleep and Fitz had returned, Natasha thought about heading off - they had things under control, they didn't need her hanging around now - but something stopped her. That little voice in her head which told her that it was now or never - the last chance. "Just wondering, has Julio gone to his grandmother yet?"

Fitz looked at her as Simmons started flicking through her phone. "Julio, five years old is still here." Simmons answered and then pouted slightly in sympathy.

"What is it?"

"He's the only one heading to Michigan, he'll probably be one of the last to go," she answered before taking a breath and looking at Fitz. "Are they all in bed?"

Fitz nodded. "Yes, and asleep."

"I'm supposed to be heading to Michigan tomorrow anyway, I could take Julio," Natasha stated, mentally kicking herself. Now wasn't the time to get emotional over a mission, but she had already spoken - technically, this was still part of her mission, though. She owed it to herself and Julio to see it to the end.

Without hesitation, Simmons accepted her offer, jotting it down and then typing something on her phone. "I'll make sure he is ready for 10am?"

Natasha nodded and stepped from the room. She checked on the children in the other rooms quickly before heading off - she had finished her time there anyway. She then picked up the phone and called Clint, he was always better at getting a Quinjet without simply taking one - or stealing it as Clint continuously reminded her. "Clint, hey, how's the kids?" She started before getting into the details.

* * *

The next morning, Natasha woke up at one of her earlier times, 5:30. This wasn't the earliest time she woke up but wasn't as late as 6am. She hit the gym straight away, it was always quieter at this time but not completely abandoned - 4 am appeared to be the quietest time, as far as she has figured out. Clint wasn't due to arrive until 8am, which wasn't too long to wait.

After two hours, she showered, changed and then went to the cafeteria for breakfast, where she ended up meeting Clint.

"Tell me again why we're hand delivering one of the children?" Clint asked, and she could tell that he was tired.

Deciding to not question what was going on with him and Laura, she moved on and answered his question. "I volunteered."

He nodded, accepting the offer of coffee from her. "Yes, you said that. One of the children was going to Michigan."

"Not just any child - the one we almost adopted," Natasha admitted. Clint's head instantly jerked up slightly at that and looked at her, as if he was just now putting two and two together - Nat wasn't sure if she should be seriously concerned about his home situation right now. He was not usually one to take that long working out what she was doing, in fact, she presumed he understood what was going on when he agreed. "What's going on?"

With a sigh, Clint took a gulp of his hot coffee. "Laura and I just got into a small argument. I think I'm going to put in a request to not have long undercover missions anymore. Just stick to what I'm best at."

Natasha nodded, she understood what Clint was going through - not directly, but indirectly. He had a good life to return to and wasn't too fond of spending long periods of time undercover - in fact, he hated undercover mission regardless of the length. Natasha, however, loved undercover mission - pretending to be somebody she wasn't, creating a whole new life for herself was exhilarating. There were some undercover personas, that if they were real, she wouldn't want to leave either. However, when hers inevitable always came to an end, his was real. "I think that's a nice idea, I'm sure Laura will appreciate it."

Clint bobbed his head slightly before looking at her. "That's an upside. Also, I won't have to deal with anymore consequences of undercover - it's more trouble than it's worth half the time."

With another nod, Natasha seemed to agree. "I guess it's how you look at it." She said before moving straight on. "Did you procure a Quinjet?"

"Sure did," Clint said with a cocky smirk.

Natasha felt like rolling her eyes, she knew exactly what Clint was thinking, but thankfully, she also knew that he wouldn't bring it up. And if he started asking questions, she would too. "Great, we have an hour to spare."

Clint nodded and the two of them fell into a safe conversation - nothing too deep, and nothing about his family.

* * *

Natasha didn't react right away when little Julio wrapped both of his arms around one of hers nervously. He was scared, and he had every right to be - they were flying to Michigan, where his maternal grandmother lived. The woman had agreed to take him into her care after being told his story, although it had taken awhile for her to get over her grief about her daughter's death. Still, even before she'd given her answer, Natasha had known she wouldn't turn her only grandson away; after all, he was her only living link to her daughter now.

Julio's little arms were shaking, he was gripping her so tightly. The kid had never been on a plane in his life, so that anxiety added on to the fact that he was going to meet his new caretaker for the first time meant that he was a nearly inconsolable mess. Natasha couldn't help but feel pity for the poor little boy - even though this was all for his own good, Julio was still being ripped from the only life he'd ever known.

 _Much like the Red Room_. Sighing, she allowed him to keep his death grip on her, not quite sure how else to give him some much-needed comfort. He'd barely spoken to anyone so far, so she didn't know what exactly his feelings on her were. For all she knew he could just be clinging to her simply because she was the closest human being. Any comforting gestures may not be welcome.

 _It can't hurt to ask_ … "You alright, kiddo?" She asked as gently as she could. Although the answer was obviously _no_ , the boy didn't glare at her for the pointless question. He squeezed her arm tighter and buried his face in her sleeve, shaking his head in answer. If that didn't just give her hardened heartstrings a firm yank… "Yeah, I'm sure this is all scary and new to you."

"What if we fall?" Julio asked in a tiny voice, the first sentence he'd uttered in a long while. This time she didn't bother with analysing how he'd respond; Natasha reached across her body with her other arm and began running her fingers through his curly hair. He'd gotten his first shower in a long time just the day before.

"I'm not worried about it." She said calmly, with confidence. "My best friend is flying this thing, and he won't let us fall."

Julio looked nervously over to the cockpit, biting his lip. "Oh," he responded before burying his head against her again.

Natasha smiled softly and pulled him onto her lap - which he came willingly and held onto her even tighter. "Don't worry, I've got you," she murmured. She knew she didn't need to put him on her lap, he was content sitting next to her and holding on for dear life, but this was for her.

She had never really been the most maternal being, and up to more recently in her life, she didn't hesitate when she was ordered to kill children. To her, they were just targets. But now, not only did she look at children differently - and people in general differently - but since having the opportunity to adopt a child, she almost took it.

The prospect of being able to actually have a family astonished her, she grew up thinking, no _knowing_ , that she wouldn't have children. But, that wasn't technically true any more. Looking down at Julio, she didn't see a lost chance of adopting, but the beginning of a whole new life that she _could_ pursue if she wanted to. That was actually pretty overwhelming. So, for now, she'd just settle with making sure Julio got a loving family.

* * *

Natasha moved Julio onto the seat beside her once they landed. "See, we're safe on the ground now," she informed Julio as she waited for Clint to do the post-flight checks in the cockpit.

The boy slowly relinquished his hold on her arm as he peered around warily, as though checking that she was, in fact, correct. "That's what that bump was?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," Natasha confirmed.

"Bump? I don't bump," Clint said walking out of the cockpit with a grin on his face. "I landed gracefully."

Natasha rolled her eyes and offered a hand to Julio. "Hmm, sure you did," she teased Clint.

Julio took her hand without hesitation, though he eyed Clint curiously. "Are you super-smart? Since you can fly this plane?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Clint grinned at the young boy. "Yes, I _am_ super-smart." He agreed easily and took his other hand. "Are you looking forward to meeting your grandmother?"

Natasha fell quiet at the question, any remends of teasing Clint she had completely fallen from her thoughts as she looked down at Julio. It was only a five minute walk - ten minutes with a child - to Julio's grandmother's house. Of course, when Natasha had called the woman earlier, both her and Clint were invited to stay for lunch to make the transition easier - but they'd still be leaving the boy there.

Julio nodded timidly, seeming to shrink in on himself at the mere mention of his new caretaker. "Y-yeah. She's nice, right?" He asked for the third time that day. There was a quavering in his voice that didn't escape either agents' notice.

"Of course she is!" Clint responded instantly, ruffling the boy's hair - only for Natasha to neaten back up. "Grandmothers always are. And she is really looking forward to meeting you too, I hear she's already got your bedroom ready!"

Julio seemed to take comfort from this, although his grip on Natasha's hand never wavered. "Okay." He said simply, in one word both reassuring the adults that he wasn't freaking out as much anymore and that he was ready to get going.

"Let's head to your new home then, we don't want to be late," Natasha finally piped in and instantly began leading the way. True to her estimation, it took them just over ten minutes to walk there, she idly listened to Clint and Julio conversing - well, Clint making jokes and Julio laughing; he was always better with children than she was. As she went to pull her hand from Julio's to knock on the door, both of his arms were suddenly holding onto her arm tightly, his fingers digging into her arms slightly. "It's okay."

Clint stepped forward and did the knocking instead, seeing as Julio had completely let go of him.

The door opened almost immediately, and a tired-yet-excited-looking woman in her late forties was suddenly sizing them up with anticipation. Her gaze locked onto Julio after a few seconds and her eyes widened in pure shock. "Oh, Andrea…" She whispered, hand over her heart. Without breaking her stare, she reached forward with one shaking hand and gently ran her fingers down the side of the boy's face. They could only watch as tears built up in her eyes. "Hello, Julio. I'm your grandma." She finally addressed him directly, a watery smile pulling at the edges of her mouth.

"H-hi." Julio replied shyly, probably taken off guard by the incredibly emotional response. Grief over her daughter's death and joy at meeting her only grandchild were emanating off of the woman in palpable waves.

At the sound of his voice, Margaret let out a small laugh. "Oh, you're so much like your mother." She said, gently ruffling his curly hair before standing straighter and addressing Clint and Nat. "I'm sorry - please, come in." She said invitingly, drying her eyes as she ushered them inside.

Natasha indicated for Clint to go first and then followed him in with Julio. "You have a lovely home." She idly complemented - that's what you say when you're invited in, right?

"Thank you," Margaret replied with a smile, her mood visibly lightening as time went on. "There's plenty of room here for a growing little boy to play and live happily." Julio's grip on Natasha's hand tightened before slackening a little bit as he looked around the rooms in wonder.

"Is she rich?" He whispered up to Natasha conspiratorially once they were shown into the living room. The house wasn't _that_ grand, and the rooms were decorated enough to feel homey but not so much that it felt overdone, but it honestly didn't give off an aura of wealth. Still, Julio had grown up in a dank hospital-like building for his whole life, so anything looking this nice would be new to him.

Natasha bent down and quickly pried her arm out of his, before resting her other on his chest - which he quickly took hold off - and the other around his shoulders. "You will be taken care here, three meals a day, regular baths or showers, water, a clean bed of your own," she listed, before seeing an unopened toy set which looks like it's supposed to be hidden, "and even a few toys. So, yes, I think you will have an enriched life here."

Margaret excused herself for a moment and came back into the room with a small tray of snacks, which she set on the coffee table in front of them as Clint, Natasha and Julio settled on the couch while she herself took the armchair. There was a small plate of various cookies and a few glasses of milk. "I figured everyone would be hungry after the trip." She explained kindly. Her gaze rested on her grandson again. "Say, Julio, are you lactose intolerant?" Her head tilted up and looked at Natasha for confirmation in this matter, to which Natasha nodded.

Julio, surprised at suddenly being spoken to, jumped just a little before looking at her owlishly. "Hmm?" He questioned, looking confused.

"Lactose intolerant means that milk makes your tummy hurt." Margaret simplified patiently.

"Oh… yeah."

She smiled. "I thought so - your mother had a severe problem with dairy… Here, I've got some soy milk for you, and these cookies here," she gestured to a small pile of them, "are dairy-free as well." After a bit of coaxing and encouragement from the adults, Julio snagged two of the proffered cookies and the glass of milk and downed them in less than five swallows. He blushed a little when Margaret laughed at his voracious appetite, but he was smiling, seeming much more content and comfortable here than before.

"Thank you." He said after a minute. Margaret waved it off.

"You don't need to thank me for food, little one - there'll be a lot more where that came from." She assured.

Natasha patted the boy's back softly, half pleased that she relaxed and was no longer holding onto her, but half sad and disappointed in how quickly he got used to his new home.

Clint suddenly piped in, "is this a custom bookshelf? I need to build one, what wood was used?" Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint and his bug for building new things or redoing his house - how Laura put up with that, she didn't know. Natasha personally preferred an organised and tidy environment.

After that conversational change, the hours just flew past. Julio absolutely loved his bedroom, and this room made Natasha think that maybe his grandmother _was_ rich! His new single bed folded up into the wall sideways, and there were shelves above it. Along the same wall was a simple set of square shelves, which already had a few books on them. On the opposite wall was a built-in wardrobe and shelves, which had a few outfits for Julio, all ranging in sizes.

There were only a few things in the room, but, Natasha knew that soon it would be filled with things for the boy, and that was one of the reasons that when it came to leaving, it wasn't too hard.

Of course, Julio got pretty emotional, but released her from the hug after a few minutes to hug Clint, then her again, then they left. She turned back thrice, and came to a slow halt when the door was closed and Julio was no longer waving.

"Does this mean you're open to having children?" Clint asked her.

"It's crossed my mind," Natasha admitted, but before he had chance to respond and continue that line of conversation, she added, "Are you ready to tell me what happened with Laura?"

Clint sighed slightly. "Nothing I can't fix."

 ** _The End_**

 **Thank you for everybody who has supported me during this story, by reading, reviewing, faving and following! I am so honoured to write and loved this story.**

 **Thank you!**


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